


Carry The Torch

by livinginthepast



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket, Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Characters from the Snicket-verse past, Crossover, Established Relationship, Jeeves is a Volunteer, M/M, VFD AU, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinginthepast/pseuds/livinginthepast
Summary: Bertie Wooster with his manservant and partner, Reginald Jeeves, get embroiled into a plot which not only threatens their trust in one another but also the organisation to which they are affiliated, the Volunteer Fire Department.Set some time after Joy in the Morning.You needn't have read A Series of Unfortunate Events to read this but I wholeheartedly recommend it."If you happen upon this work you are either distantly involved in the goings-on, or more likely, finding this through some atrocity or other. I do hope things haven’t got quite that bad yet, though."
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Beginning Badly

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by not only the works of Daniel Handler and P. G. Wodehouse but also PurpleFluffyCat’s fic [‘Jeeves and the Artistic Verisimilitude’](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5646397/chapters/13003621) which has a fortune tellers tent that reminded me enough about ASOUE to write this.

As a popular book writer and raconteur, knowing what to include or exclude in my odd bits of writing is crucial. You can never be sure who will happen upon small fragmentary parts of your memoir that mean a great deal more to the world than a general reader could ever imagine.

I found out, to slight distress, that you can not be too careful. This particular story shall likely remain unpublished, keeping secrets safe and sparing the public of these dire circumstances. If you happen upon this work you are either distantly involved in the goings-on, or more likely, finding this through some atrocity or other. I do hope things haven’t got quite that bad yet, though.

My work _Joy in the Morning_ , with its title supplied by a singular valet, ended up causing some friction between myself and said valet. It wrecked our perfectly serene arrangement and put quite the distance between us.

Like many of my published materials, Jeeves had scoured over the manuscript - blotting out revealing word choices and missing out particularly nice recollections of our personal relationship. I was less resistant to his removal of things this time round, as I knew better than to argue with the man (and he’d said my hair looked lovely, but that is, and was, besides the point).

With my writings throughly picked through, Jeeves consented to its publication. He was rather apprehensive about my line of work in contrast to his own - and he had reason to be.

As I’m sure you are somewhat aware, Jeeves and I were, or still vaguely are, involved in a organisation of sorts. Separate to that of the Junior Ganymede Club and the Drones Club, VFD was a far more exclusive and desperately secretive group. My slight public interest compromised our safety a jot, but up until the release of the memoir it seemed unlikely to affect us. We were wrong, as it turns out.

After the unbelievable action of Jeeves kissing me after a near-death experience, (or as some call him, Spode), he had explained to me that our relationship would mean involvement in VFD - a secret organisation known for fighting the evils of the world at the peril of its members. Nothing then, having been gifted the opportunity of a relationship with such a marvel, would have been likely to make Bertram Wooster shy away from it all. I might have been know to cower away from the morally wrong, or certain physical threats but last time I'd checked Jeeves was neither of those.

Jeeves being a paragon of the highest kind, a downright genius, and the cat’s pyjamas, was recruited in the usual fashion of ankle-grabbing and unique schooling. I, however, was more of an outsider. My involvement tended towards the biffing about as normal with the addendum to get Jeeves where he needed to be. As it turned out Jeeves’ fishing trips were less recreational than I’d imagined, and involved a lot more eagles.

_Joy in the Morning_ , for those who haven’t read it, recounts a jaunt in Steeple Bumpleigh where Jeeves was requested by Lord Worplesdon to help him make a deal with Chichester Clam. I also had a non-VFD related duty of my own, which was the delivery of a brooch to Florence Craye by request of my Aunt Agatha. Both creatures of the feminine-kind seemed to think Bertram’s grey matter was made from cotton-wool or a similarly cloud adjacent material, so it was safe to say it was not a request I greatly enjoyed. Of course Jeeves was adamant we went so off we drove, into Hampshire and the beginnings of this complicated tale. 

The main problem really started when somebody who we believed began working against VFD read my publication. VFD works a little like one of Jeeves’ schemes, in that each person needs to fulfil a role in the movement towards a particular outcome - some people do something that may seem negative that can still propel towards a favourable result and vice versa. Members of VFD, recruits or otherwise, work towards smaller goals to assist in over-arching ones. One person can put a spanner in the works and bring down years of perfectly planned goodness. Much like someone ruining a perfectly nice soup by over peppering it. This type of a person appeared to have read my ramblings and worked out an on-going plot, which was less than ideal. Especially since I was going to be the one in the stew.

Edwin, a boy with an accidentally nefarious nature, (if that’s the word I want), started a chimney fire. Why he thought gunpowder and paraffin would clean it is anybody’s guess. Members of VFD know that suspicious fires are rather par for the course, what with being titled the Volunteer Fire Department and all. The fire, however, was quite important for several reasons. One being that Wee Nooke was dashed critical for a mission Jeeves had been hiding from me for safety’s sake. Another was that VFD did not want certain people to know what was going on regarding the failure of that mission, as it revealed one of those on-going plot thingummies I mentioned before. An on-going plot which was to aid the department in further missions.

In any case, we received a telegram three weeks post-publication, which read:

_FROM: NOBODY_  
_TO: BERTRAM WILBERFORCE WOOSTER, BERKLEY MANSIONS, BERKLEY SQUARE, LONDON_  
_IF OBJECT IN YOUR CARE MUST KNOW (STOP) IF DESTROYED YOU WILL BE TOO (STOP)_

Jeeves’ eyes widened to a degree and he swallowed roughly before coughing slightly. I looked up from my musical notations knowing the expression colouring my partner’s map was not very positive. It's probably worth mentioning here that I had consented to Jeeves reading communications directed at me, incase reader's feel that was unsporting of him, mainly to make things quicker when devising schemes, but also because I wanted him to understand that I thought of us as a partnership. Anyway, back to the telegram.

‘Bertram, you may be interested to know the telegram we just received was rather shocking. Shall I enlighten you?’

I agreed he should; I was quite interested in Jeeves’ abrupt change in demeanour, and why it should occur. We had been having a quiet a.m., Jeeves cleaning the breakfast things and me playing some softer, morning-friendly piano and reading some new compositions until the doorbell had rung. I beckoned him to sit down beside me as a comforting gesture. He showed me the telegram tentatively, and I took it understanding why Jeeves had looked so pipped, threats like that are uncalled for!

‘When we went to Steeple Bumpleigh, as recalled in your recent publication, do you remember my eagerness that we should visit?’ He asked.

‘Of course. It took more than one person convincing me to drag the corpus up there,’ I said.

‘Well, I was not entirely truthful in that request. Lord Worplesdon needing help provided apt cover for our visit. However, my real motivation was a request I had received to obtain a necessary object from Wee Nooke.’

‘The building Edwin burnt down? Dashed unfortunate that business.’

‘Yes. Especially when the object in question was still inside.’

‘Ah. Is this why that telegram whatsit is making you so rummy? Not to worry though, I knew nothing of the object - I'm sure this "Nobody" person will feel more than a little put-out knowing I was uninvolved.’

‘It is not your lack of knowledge regarding the object that is the problem. But rather that whoever it is has managed to trace the Wee Nooke fire to yourself, no doubt from your story, _Joy In The Morning_. There are multiple problems with this. I am perturbed that we, as an organisation, were not alone in knowing where that object was, and that there seems to be another person after it. Though the object's destruction ended up being remedied by the organisation, knowledge surrounding what it was and its contents remain incredibly secretive. I also can't help but be worried about yours and, lesser still, my own safety regarding the nature of distress shown in the telegram.'

‘Well... I can't say that's ideal.’

Jeeves raised an eyebrow at me for that one, but really - what is a man to say when what seemed to be was all but swept from under his feet in one instant. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a magician made the very floor disappear from under me, not that they were likely to do so.

‘Listen, Jeeves,’ I said, ‘I might have been unaware with this object-collecting wheeze, and I don’t blame you for being quiet about it either, but surely you could tell me the goings-on now? Especially since life might be at risk.’

Jeeves sighed then, taking a long look into my eyes before his own started worrying about. He took my hand and looked away before uttering ‘I don’t think that would be wise.’

I held tightly, ‘Jeeves, Reggie, whatever you’re trying to do to protect me or the organisation, I don’t want you to think it’s just your problem. The telegram was meant for my eyes in the first place. You don’t need to carry this burden alone, we’re partners, I want to help too.’

‘I know you do,’ he took his hand back, ‘I just can’t shake the idea that it was my fault for not seeing this coming. It was my own selfishness that caused your involvement within a dangerous, uncaring, world.'

I was aghast, and I told Jeeves the same. We had both been complacent, a word which here means allowing the publication of accounts of fires in specific locations known by some to hold important objects, and neither of us knew that someone would stand up and take notice. I knew what I was getting into with Jeeves, many would see that as dangerous in itself, and I wanted to involve myself despite all that. I would bear anything out, even to the edge of doom. Jeeves listened to this, but I could tell he was struggling to accept it, even with use of the old Bard.

We had talked of VFD and what his involvement meant before, but I don’t think I had truly realised until that moment how significant their work seemed to be. My own interactions with them were casual, like a visit to see the Drones of a random lunchtime, I scarcely had reached the surface let alone deep depths of what was going on beyond it. I knew Jeeves' involvement was a lot more hands-on, and I knew the work could be dangerous - but I never thought it could actually reach our own shores, as it were. It was all rather heavy, the knowledge of a great secret weighing us down like an anchor into the dark unknown.

The telegram situation revealed to me that Jeeves couldn’t stop blaming himself straight away for losing our safety and publishing VFD's secrets out into the world; it would take more than my reassurance for him to actually feel reassured. There was an internal struggle that needed to be solved, for both our sakes. I decided that for now I wouldn’t push him, so as not to make him suffer needlessly.

‘You know I’ll be around long enough if you do want to confide in me, old thing. I'm not about to start investigating the sitch myself.’

And luckily for me, Jeeves believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bertie references Shakespeare's sonnet 116 which includes the lines "Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
> But bears it out even to the edge of doom."


	2. Diving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A library visit.

Usually, as reader’s may know, I’m quite compliant. Sometimes I might protest a trip to see my Aunt Agatha, or break an occasional law, but all-in-all this Wooster does what is asked. Where Jeeves is concerned, this is especially true (with the exception of monogramed handkerchiefs, fruity ties, and some jaunty hats). However, on occasion, there comes a time to defy your man’s wishes and take things into your own hands. I wanted to assert myself as a capable man of action, and for once be seen fishing Jeeves out of the soup. This was one such time.

Jeeves was adamant that I should not be involved in the previously described rummy telegram situation. We had some small tiffs about the matter. I argued that as a member of VFD, and the love of Jeeves’ life, (I was laying it on thick), I should know what was going on and find out who the blasted note came from. Jeeves felt it was too dangerous and that I would have to know too many particulars about VFD that would put my life further at risk than it was presently. He was still struggling with the idea that my being in a relationship with him meant me accepting whole-heartily that things could be a mite tricky, which I already had accepted. I understood his position, of course, trying to come to terms with keeping two corpuses afloat, rather than just the one you have control of, is quite the thing to wrap the noggin around.

Knowing how stubborn Jeeves can be, I knew I’d have to go behind his back or be forever in the dark to his involvement in VFD's schemes and how this all related to threats towards my person. Jeeves would burden himself with the situation and I didn't want to sit by and see my man suffer at my expense. I loved him and I wanted to be there for him, despite potential peril. I wanted us both to stay afloat, together, rather than one keeping the other from drowning by sheer force.

I knew as little about current affairs within the organisation as I had concerning large imposing philosophy books and figured I should do some research. Hitting the non-fiction is not usual for my reading tastes, but in desperate times one often has to reach beyond the confines of his comfort zone.

Donning my hat and calling to Jeeves I was going out for a spot of lunch, I walked hastily to the library a few streets away. One of the librarians there was an acquaintance of Jeeves’, named Arthur Qwerty, who had never officially met me. He was a member of the organisation who I'd heard was very well informed; I just hoped that he hadn’t been informed enough to recognise my face from the background of some VFD event. Attendance was usually mandatory and whilst I was a forgettable face for many (some a-likening me to distant hound), you can't be too wary of these bookish types. Especially one who was on the look-out for shady behaviour. 

The building looked as most libraries do, a brick building with white columns and a wooden double door with which to enter. Above the w. d. d. was carved the words 'Public Library'. I entered with a skip, ready to solve the woes of the Wooster and Jeeves household.

‘Excuse me,’ I said, nearing the front desk.

‘How can I help you?’ Arthur said, I presumed it was Arthur as his desk had a nameplate on it.

‘Have you been good to your mother?’ I asked, reciting a code which with members used to come into contact with one another. I knew that much, at least, having heard the exchange in all kinds of different contexts. 

His eyes widened, ‘The question is, has she been good to me?’ The man lowered his voice significantly, looking around the empty library cautiously. ‘What do you need?’

‘I’m looking for the past few months of meeting minutes.’

‘I can’t give them to just anyone. Who are you? What are you using them for?’

‘Those are interesting questions,’ I suggested biding my time for a spot of thinking. I really ought to have known I would be asked this, given that the Volunteer Fire Department tends towards tight-lipped. I walked into this whole thing with a naivety I find myself wishing the investigation had continued with.

‘I would rather have an answer than think about if the questions were interesting or not.’

‘Of course,’ I scrambled to think of some sort of cover, as his reply came far too quickly for my tastes, ‘Snicket sent me. I’m not sure myself what he needs them for.’

Snicket, for those who may be wondering is quite a mover and shaker in VFD - not that there are any leaders persay. His name opened doors, quite literally in this case.

This satisfied Arthur Qwerty enough and he walked me to one of the libraries’ back rooms. The creaky wooden shelves were stuffed with neatly labelled and aligned boxes. A small table in the corner was filling space where the alphabet had ended. He traced his finger down the V section finding the word 'Volunteer'. The first box he pulled out revealed another box behind it. This one was kept in a hole in the wall where the backing of the bookcase had been removed. He took both boxes over to the table, disregarding the first one but not knowing where else to put it. His fingers deftly separated out the paperwork, selecting a good pile of paper to give me.

‘These are minutes from May to August. September has lacked formal meetings so far. Mr. Snicket should be able to work with this.’

I thanked him and left the library as quickly as I came, hiding the materials inside a copy of a detective novel which I was given a wry look for checking out. I couldn’t say why, it looked rather juicy to me - full of intrigue.

Needless to say, my planning thus far had reached its end and I now wanted to find somewhere quiet to peruse the documents. Somewhere Jeeves wouldn’t be, and somewhere I wasn’t likely to bump into a school chum and have them distract me. I disregarded majority of Piccadilly since the Drones could be biffing about, and so could Jeeves - getting in the shopping, or whatever a valet does about town. Without these places I was a little stuck. The park across from the library was quite full and I didn’t want to go back into the building knowing Mr. Qwerty thought I was just delivering the papers. He had a touch of the concerned about him and I didn’t want to bring about anymore, lest he saw reason and got a group of Volunteers to hose me down.

Instead of risking the discovery of my unplanned plan I took to an old friend, hoping he’d easily believe I needed some space from Jeeves to go over my writing. Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright’s London residence was a type of suite near the West End. It wasn’t too far a walk, plus Catsmeat had never been known for brainpower so seemed unlikely to question me for arriving out of nowhere.

As I walked my mind raced like a horse with good odds. Doing something so opposed to my own moral code was an odd sort of feeling. Betrayal and guilt are not things I deal with very often, and Jeeves being added to the equation made it all the more taxing. The Wooster grey-matter was hardly used to working to this extent these days, I had a few brighter moments in school, as you might recall I did win the Scripture Knowledge prize, but recently the thinking had been designated to Jeeves. I reasoned with myself, arguing that for once I wanted to be the one to protect Jeeves - just to even the score a bit. Even if that meant a little discomfort in my mind for the moment. But I couldn’t help feeling like I’d misled him in some manner, even it was ultimately a wheeze for his benefit. The racing continued when I had arrived, but was now more like that of a distant radio to actually being stood near the starting line. This was because the distraction that is Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright soon engaged me in conversation, and one can't think an awful lot when such an animated fellow is trying to talk to you.

‘Bertram Wilberforce Wooster,’ Catsmeat’s valet announced upon my arrival.

‘What-ho Catsmeat. Hope you don’t mind me dropping by out of the blue.’

‘Not a bit, Bertie! I haven’t seen you in an absolute age. Heard you got engaged to Madeline Bassett again, how long did it last this time?’

‘Two days, old pal,’ I shivered.

‘Ah well. You’ll settle eventually. Sit down! Let’s get some drinks,’ he beckoned for his valet to start pouring out the good stuff.

‘Actually, Catsmeat, I was wondering if you’d mind awfully if I went through my manuscript here. It’s just that Jeeves can be awfully loud when he’s doing the cleaning and what-not about the Wooster residence. I could do with the space, what?’

‘Course you can, Bertie. But let’s finish that drink first. I’m due at the theatre in a jot for rehearsal.’

‘Ah, that would be that new romance whatsit - with the amnesia?’

'That's it, _Tiptoes_ , but adapted for a London audience. We may as well keep chatting until then. After that, the place can be yours.’

‘Dashed good of you, old fruit,’ I said, meaning every word of it.

Half an hour, a couple of discarded glasses and a long discussion later Catsmeat had gone, and Bertram was left to deal with the detective work. Catsmeat had left the whisky open, and I graciously added some more to my glass before getting the papers out from their fold in *The House Without a Key*, which I’d much rather have been reading.

VFD’s meeting minutes, I found, were not only as dry as I imagine others in the genre, but also used some kind of coding system. Names were initialised, and the notes looked more like a script than simple bullet points. The script, however, did not seem to follow entirely in chronological order. When M. spoke, for instance, asking what they should wear, a response was not given. As I had a few drinks sloshing round the old head my concentration was lacklustre, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of the blasted thing. I was reminded of that Whitman bit Jeeves liked about “wending to shores I know not” or something along those lines. The shores were certainly a bit unknown and overly choppy in places.

Approx. after half a rehearsals worth of a West End musical, and I was gripping the papers by their edges looking for an inkling of a change in plans. Jeeves had mentioned the object was no longer needed, so I assumed I might be able to find out what is was by what it was replaced with. All I could guess which could be significant was that C. C. was going ahead with something, B. was destroyed, and L. W. was being observed. They stood out from the other bits of information, and were in a slightly bolder handwriting than the rest of the text. This meant absolutely nothing to me. What I really needed was Jeeves’ eyes on the thing, but I wasn’t about to confess all - he’d never trust the young master again. Besides, that was what led me to take matters upon myself in the first place. Having Jeeves’ trust when these situations arose would help him relax - at least that was the theory.

I left Catsmeat’s with some trepidation. I felt almost as if I had learnt nothing at all, although it was a least a starting point. I informed Catsmeat's door-keep that I would be heading homewards and scooted off to find a taxi back to the Square.

Jeeves came to my side as soon as I’d entered the flat. He looked at the book by my side without saying anything, and shimmered off to put the coat and hat in their proper places.

‘I trust your lunch was adequate, sir,’ He said from the coat stand.

‘It certainly was, Jeeves.’

I placed my book upon the armrest of my reading chair and sat down in it. The papers tucked inside of it screaming to me that keeping secrets from Jeeves was possibly the worst plan ever. Weaker men would give into the musings of non-sentient pulp and I didn’t consider my self a weak man, though my hands were beginning to form some perspiration.

‘Sir, may I speak with you a moment?’ My man asked, putting into effect his full charms.

‘Of course. You needn’t ask. When nobody’s in the vicinity speak as frankly as you like; I always have done, and always will enjoy your conversation and company.’

‘A lovely sentiment, Bertram,’ one of his eyebrows raised a centimetre above its usual position, ‘I did not want to talk about our private conduct, however, I merely wanted to ask if you were acquainted with Mr. Snicket?’

This was not a question I wanted to answer. Mr. Snicket being a big wig of VFD, and the ruse I’d used to get the papers, which had been thus far fruitless. The line of Jeeves’ questioning would no doubt lead to my inevitable undoing. Not giving a response and instead going down the path of mine and Jeeves’ relationship was a whole other kettle of shrimp. With my slight nagging of Jeeves as of late about the rummy telegram, any terrible outcome could occur - bringing to mind a horrific incident with a banjolele which would cause any man to turn and run into the ocean never to be seen again.

‘Mr. Snicket? Oh, rather! He’s that volunteer fellow, if I’m right. Properly heroic, noble and *et cetera*, and a popular one among the fairer sex, or so I’ve heard.’

Jeeves did not look convinced. He stood above me with a pinched mouth downturned at the edges. My sunny disposition deflated.

‘You’ve never spoken to him?’

‘No, no. One hears of these stalwart upstanding members of the organisation, of course, but I can’t say I’ve had a conversation with the chap.’

‘Well then, sir,’ He added frostily, ‘I should like to know why Mr. Snicket wishes to speak to you.’

He did? ‘He does?’

‘Mr. Snicket was quite urgent about it. He seemed to believe you had already expressed a desire to see him tomorrow morning. He told me that you had both arranged the matter earlier this afternoon.’

My mouth had opened, but I could not form any words. I was trapped by my own lie, hoisted by my own petard, left for dead by this Snicket fellow in front of my own man. A man, who looked more than a little hurt and kept the distance between us far too respectable for my tastes.

‘Jeeves,’ I managed, ‘I completely forgot! After seeing Catsmeat my head drew a blank. I bumped into Snicket today, you see.’

‘I see.’ He paused for a moment, and sighed. ‘Forgive me for my surprise, Bertram. I've been less than myself lately. If I’m honest for a moment, I was wondering if you had been lying to me.’

‘About what, old thing? You know I can barely keep birthday and Christmas presents from you as is.’

‘I’m aware,’ he softened, ‘I believe my insecurity was brought about by the current VFD problem. Having someone so closely involved in that side of my life contacting you made me anxious. That, and his insistence you had made plans, even though I had not been made aware of them. You know that I’m doing everything I can to protect you. It’s not a matter of me lacking trust in you, but lacking trust in anyone but you.’

‘I know, and I understand the concern completely,’ I took his hand and looked up into his eyes, ‘Jeeves, I didn’t mean to alarm you either. I don’t know Mr. Snicket almost at all. We just happened to cross paths.’

‘I just hope he doesn’t want anything too serious.’

‘You and I both,’ I shuddered, ‘Have you met the fellow?'

‘On a few occasions, at parties.'

'And what did you think?'

'The most notable interaction I had with him was when I was a younger man, before I was employed by you. He was recollecting a story at the dinner table where after a frightful time at sea he came across a deserted-island. During the story one of his children came in the room crying and visibly shaking. As guests, we didn't know where to look, but he allowed the child to sit upon his knee and comforted them until they felt happy enough to go to bed.'

'That was quite good of him.'

'It was. On reflection, I do wonder why the child was crying. Theoretically, it could have been anything, but I can also envision they might have heard a noise from outside.'

'A recruiter, you mean?'

'Possibly. He does have multiple children after all. One of them might have been taken that night.'

Jeeves looked rather sad and wistful about all this. I tugged on where our hands were attached, pulling him into an awkward sort-of hug. Being as tall as we both are, sitting on one armchair together is quite a feat of engineering - but we managed. 'Jeeves,' I said above his head not knowing quite how to articulate that the past was over and I'd never want him to be alone as he once was.

For those without prior knowledge of VFD, I might have explained earlier that Jeeves had a longer, more traditional type of training. The organisation recruited brilliant children from a youngish age into their ranks via a shady sort of kidnapping process that left the children's ankles sore and took them from their familiar surroundings. It wasn't a particularly charming process, but gave members essential skills knowledge. Though it had been years ago, and Reginald had turned out generally fine, I could tell he still wondered what his life would have been if he had not been selected by the VFD recruiters.

'You don't have to say anything, it's just the way things happen,' he said by way of dismissal. The lines on his brow did not disappear, however.

'It can't be easy, having to fend for yourself like that. I'm glad I had Aunt Dahlia to check-up on me after my parents, well-' I swallowed, 'even if she misunderstood me at times she was quite the help.'

'It ended up perfectly well. I'm glad you didn't experience it.'

Whilst my man and I were getting rather soft round the edges thinking about our experiences growing up, reader's might be wondering why this is relevant to the situation re: the Snicket family. I’ll catch you up to speed. You see, I was pipped to find out that Arthur Qwerty had revealed all regarding my own investigations to this Snicket creature. I'd barely just started in my research into the goings-on at VFD, and he'd already sniffed me out like a bloodhound. I was merely trying to figure out if Jeeves had a negative opinion so I could keep my guard up, but instead that guilty feeling continued to bubble up inside the Wooster heart. Here, my man was, quivering about his childhood loneliness, where VFD saw fit to distance brilliant children from their parents, in my arms whilst I attempted to keep my web of lies from being discovered. His own protective instinct and less-than-perfect past were bringing out Reginald's needier side, and as much as I wanted to indulge him in it I was struggling to remain calm myself. I was starting to wonder if all this secret society business was worth it.

'Jeeves do you think we ought to have a bracing cup of tea?'

He uncurled from my grasp and slicked his hair back into place, 'That seems like a good idea. I'll prepare the teapot, if you would like to get the cups.'

I followed him into the kitchen. We had a system when it came to feeling a bit of melancholy, Jeeves would prepare the tea, as I was known to make it far too weak or just outright fail at getting the kettle to the correct temperature, and I would collect the necessary cups, saucers, milk jugs, and the sugar bowl from the cupboards.

Once the kettle had boiled and I'd poured milk into the jug, Jeeves arranged the filled teapot onto a large silver tray. I then walked behind him as he put the tea set on the table. I launched on the Chesterfield, putting both cup and saucer in their proper positions ready for the Earl Grey I was going to pass through the lips. Jeeves sat down with the pot in his hands and poured it into the cup for me, and then attended to himself.

'So, Reggie, what sort of a thing do you think Snicket wants with me?' I sipped.

'It's hard to say. Perhaps he heard about the telegram? I could make a better assessment of the situation if I knew exactly what you had said to one another.'

'All the happened was the man spotted me, came over to say hello and mentioned us getting together at some point,' I lied through my teacup.

'It doesn't exactly reflect the urgency in his voice on the telephone. Maybe something has happened and he wishes to seek your advice?'

'Possibly. He'd be better off going to you for that sort of thing.'

We both supped at our tea thoughtfully.

'I believe this line of enquiry is pointless, Bertram,' Jeeves furrowed his brow, 'I can't form a plan with such a small amount of information. I think we should just have our evening meal and see what happens tomorrow.'

'If you say so, Jeeves.'

Instead of dwelling on the current conversation too much, so as to avoid both of our brains spouting visions of the worst possible scenarios, we switched topics entirely away from VFD and instead considered what we were going to eat. This saw us through until cooking began, where I slinked away to play piano as Jeeves prepared herbs and whatnot for the pot. Our dinner conversation about books we'd been reading saw us through to the evening cocktail, and the reading of said books. 

We went to bed together shortly after, having been drained by trying to keep our upper lips strong in circumstances where I'm sure we'd rather have both been hiding under the sheets. We did to some extent, cuddling up amongst the blankets and holding on to one another. Creating the warmth we had missed out on in our younger years, and seeking comfort in where we were presently. Hiding away from the world completely would have to wait until the meeting had passed, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mayfair Library does exist and that's pretty much what I imagined here.
> 
> The Netflix series mentions the 'Have you been good to your mother?' thing being a code for if a house is on fire, I chose to interpret it as a confirmation of volunteer identity. It's called the Librarian Code in the books.
> 
> The Whitman quote is from the 2nd stanza of As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life.


	3. Lit the Lamp

The morning came, as it often does, with the suns rays coaxing the curtain, and the eyes, open to view the days charms and terrors. Jeeves and I indulged in a few more glasses than we usually would have in normal circs. alongside our excellently cooked roast. He had still managed to wake up earlier than me, as carefully placed upon his neatly pressed side of the bed was a lovingly prepared breakfast tray. On the tray was the usual assortment of eggs and b., a few slices of toast, and a warm cup of tea. He also opted to put both of our morning newspapers on there, which I took as I sign he would be coming back instantaneously. Just as I was getting to the eating portion of the morning, Jeeves came back into the bedroom, as if he'd heard my previous thought from the other end of the flat. I wouldn’t put being psychic past him, if I’m honest.

'Good morning, Bertram. A note was delivered by hand just as I was going to awake you.'

He handed over an envelope which had yellowed a touch at the corners, and had a bright red wax seal baring the mark of an eye, or, to some, letters. Surprisingly, it was a morning of correct assumptions. I assumed it was from Mr. Snicket, and I was far from wrong. It read:

_Mr. Wooster,_   
_I shall see you at 11.30am, Mayfair Library. If you do not arrive I will wait in your apartment, though I don't foresee that happening._   
_C. Snicket_

'What time is it, Jeeves?'

'It has just passed ten o'clock, does the note detail your meeting?'

'It does. Half past eleven. I think I'll leave with fifteen minutes to spare - just so I'm not late, don't want to ruffle his feathers.'

'Where did he say he'd be?'

'Mayfair Library.'

'Not too far at all then,' Jeeves eyes shone and I could tell even in my rumpled morning state that he had been intending to tail me. Usually he left me to my engagements to catch up with his own work either within the home or wherever VFD gathered; though I wouldn't mind if he did sneak about to check on the young master, he just wasn't usually interested. This time, however, him observing the conversation would put me in quite the sticky situation with no solvent in sight.

'If you're planning to eavesdrop on us, Jeeves, I'd prefer it if you held back on this occasion. If this Snicket realises we could end up in trouble.'

'It didn't cross my mind, sir,' Jeeves stuffed-frogged me.

'It delights me to see you so concerned about me, but you needn't be. Mr. Snicket is with VFD, is he not?'

'One often wonders if the motivations of people in the same organisation could be drawn from their own interests, rather than the collective interest.'

This was one of Jeeves' ruses to get me to stop and think about understanding some of his thoughts about the world rather than the situation at hand. I wasn't going to fall into his trap.

'I'm sure I can figure out the man's motivation without your help, Jeeves.'

'Of course, Bertram,' he said giving me a look which I knew amounted to him conceding my whims, but not particularly agreeing with the idea. It was a look I had gotten quite used to over the years. 

It was with a continuation of that rather soupy look that Jeeves helped me get dressed after a quick dip in the warm and bubbly. The steam poured out of the room as I dried my hair down with a towel whilst still in my bathrobe. Jeeves had laid out a respectable grey suit with navy tie and socks for me. I was in more of a red tie mood, but felt Jeeves deserved to dress me as he wished considering how I'd been manipulating him as of late. When the bathing, drying and dressing had been ticked off the to-do list we walked into the living space together, preparing for what felt like a battle against an unknown enemy.

Jeeves smoothed down my jacket and adjusted my tie in the doorway. His nervousness was showing as he pulled the tie just a little bit too tight. I removed his hands and opted for a goodbye kiss. My lips pressed to the edge of his own mouth, feeling the smooth, recently shaved, skin against my cheek. It was a quick but warm, tender, moment, and I rather wanted to stay in it. Circumstances would not allow, lest the Snicket cockroach found a way through the very walls of my abode. I whispered against his temple, 'I'll be fine, Reggie. Don't worry, it'll all be over soon enough.'

He sighed, moving away from me to stroke one of my loose curls into place, 'When you're back I expect you to tell me everything.’

I nodded in as serious fashion as I could manage, and made my exit out of the flat. 

The walk to the library seemed to take much longer than the previous day. My stomach was lurching around like it was upon a ship during a storm akin to the business with Noah's ark. I meandered slowly to try to keep the ground from being so unstable. Quite normal for the Wooster corpus in an unusual situation, but not one that was pleasant by any stretch of the grey matter. As I reached the library, with its white columns looking far less welcoming to yesterday's impression, I took a deep stabilising breath whilst lingering on the doorstep for a moment. The air reached my lungs and I managed to open the door.

Arthur Qwerty was, just like the previous day, sat at his desk and caught my eye as I looked around for Mr. Snicket. He beckoned me over using the tried and tested method of a hand movement.

'Mr. Wooster, your acquaintance is waiting for you in the second meeting room,' he looked at my confused face and decided I probably needed further instructions, 'it is located on the second floor, the second room to the left of the landing space.'

I thanked him and made my way to where to he had mentioned which consisted of a recently varnished door. When I reached within the appropriate distance to it, I knocked quietly. I heard movement from inside and promptly pushed it open.

'Mr. Wooster! It's so nice to meet you,' a man who was still wearing his coat got up out of a small chair to shake my hand.

'Oh, rather.'

'I suspect you have some questions, but first I have some for you. Let's sit down.'

We sat. I was quite taken aback from the outright familiar nature of the man. I thought being as well-regarded as he was he would be formal and serious, not unlike Sir Watkyn Bassett. Having him be animated and congenial was a turn up for the books. He looked at lot like a vast majority of men I'd seen on the streets of New York. He was wearing a sharp grey suit with a dark green tie, and had arms that suggested he wasn't just apart of VFD for the literature side of things.

‘I was told by Artie that a strange man had come by my request.’

I tried not to giggle at use of the nickname Artie.

‘Oddly enough, I didn’t ask any strange man to do anything for me, so, I have to wonder what Bertram Wooster was doing trying to get ahold of some meeting minutes, oh, and a copy of *The House Without a Key*, was it?’

Coming clean felt like the only course of action. He undoubtedly had the upper-hand and I didn’t want to know what would happen to me if he figured out I’d been lying because, despite his uplifting tone, I noticed a trace of the lawless about him and I certainly didn't want to become well acquainted with his biceps.

‘Yes, Mr. Snicket, I did take out Earl Derr Biggers' finest, and, of course, the minutes.’

‘My name is Charles, I'd prefer you call me that - there are too many Mr. Snicket's in the world. You did take the minutes, did you? And why’s that?’ He flicked a speak of fluff off his lapel ready to dismiss my excuse in a similar fashion.

‘My man, Reginald Jeeves that is, had taken a disturbing telegram quite badly and was overdoing it in order to protect me, you see.’

‘You’re going to have to explain that better.’

I did my best, pulled out the thesaurus and interesting prose, to get across the situation I found myself stuck in. I was tempted to keep out the parts about mine and Jeeves’ tender feelings but Charles had already seemed to have got the gist of things, either from his knowledge of us from VFD or just the feeling of the piece. VFD is quite progressive in a way, seeing two coves as a couple in private situations made the whole thing a bit easier for Jeeves and me; we even made some friends in similar positions. But, anyway, Charles seemed unbothered by this and agreed that my partner was portioning too much on his proverbial plate.

‘I can see why you did such a thing. Though I have to say your method could use some improvement.’

‘You think?’

‘I know so. You should have talked to me, you dolt. I might not know all the in and outs of every single VFD scheme, but I do have better resources than most to find them out.’

‘You’ll help me?’

‘Why not?’

‘I say! Charles, old thing, you’re a marvel.’

‘I do however, have one condition.’

Anybody who has read any of my previous accounts of the Wooster existence may well be aware that majority of my discussions end with me agreeing to a task I never should have partaken in. I similarly felt myself wanting to disagree to Charles Snicket's suggestion though I could not begin to imagine what it was.

'I need you to go back to Steeple Bumpleigh and report to me every so often about Lord Worplesdon.'

I quivered. Steeple Bumpleigh, within the sight of an accidental fire, my least favoured Aunt, and things I had to keep from Jeeves seemed to have disaster oozing from the offset. I was especially resistant as my Aunt Agatha has been known to to chow down on broken glass and spit it back out in the faces of her undeserving family members, especially family members who she deems purposeless without a wife in tow (and perhaps are a little too close to their gentleman's personal gentleman).

'I'm not too sure about this, Charles,' I said trying not to make my reluctance show too much, but nevertheless shifting in my seat, 'why do you need information about the old Lord?' 

'It's a delicate situation. The Wee Nooke fire has caused some ripples in the area and VFD wants someone to keep an eye on things. I'd prefer if it was someone who was known about the place rather than a complete new-comer, since that would no doubt cause more suspicion than we'd like.'

'I can't say I completely understand what that has to do with Worplesdon, he's always too busy with the shipping business to be getting up to anything else.'

'Like I said, it's a delicate situation. There is the other issue of the Department growing a bit smaller to consider as well, our recruits are a bit busy for this as is. If you don't want to help I suppose I can tell a certain someone about his partner's tendency towards lying, besides, it's not like you need to be involved with all this - Jeeves is capable enough for the both of you.'

His assessment was annoyingly similar to what Jeeves and I had talked about last night. Realistically, if he needed the job done Jeeves was the better choice to get it done successfully without any accidents. I still didn't want to have that conversation with Jeeves, though, lest he leave me for some clever VFD type who he wouldn't be scared to leave for his own devices. It was a tricky situation.

'You promise to help me figure out where the telegram came from?'

'Of course.'

Charles Snicket had me in a corner. The only choice that seemed viable meant Steeple Bumpleigh would be expecting a visit from me and Jeeves. He had realised I wanted to quell Jeeves' tendency for being overly overprotective at detriment to himself, and used it against me. Blackmail was to be expected in these sorts of negotiations and I didn't like it one bit. As for investigating Steeple Bumpleigh, it was a daunting prospect to say the least. Bumpleigh Hall has time and time again been the setting for ghastly events - and I was sailing forth into the heart of the notorious storm.

A decision had to be made on the way back from Snicket's interrogation of me. What would I tell Jeeves and what would I omit? Obviously I wanted to cover-up the previous few lies about why Charles wanted to meet me so I didn’t cause Jeeves upset, but I wasn't sure where to draw the line. Jeeves could be incredibly helpful in facing dire circs. but I also wanted to prove myself a bit to the organisation, especially if they were lacking manpower. Then again, my main selling point, as it were, was proximity to Jeeves' own brain - I only had one or two successful suggestions in a lifetime of scheme making, so opting for a tried and tested method might be the best course of action. Mulling this over, I decided that Jeeves would be told why we were required to go to Steeple Bumpleigh on Snicket’s request, so he could weigh in a small part. The rest of mine and Charles’ investigations could stay private, for now.

As I approached Berkley Mansions, I couldn't help feeling a cold shiver go through me. I braced myself for another round in the ring of questioning.

'What-ho, Jeeves,' I said, in a tone I hoped came across as mildly annoyed.

'Good morning, sir.'

He took my hat and coat off to their appropriate places, and looked over at the y. m. expectantly.

'Well, enough of this "sir" business, we are alone anyway. What has been asked of Bertram is quite the turn up for the books. You would not believe what has transpired in the past half hour!'

'I don't suppose I would.'

‘You were right, Jeeves,’ I started, as he does love being proven to be, ‘Charles Snicket's reason for inviting me was because he seeks my console.'

From this I explained how we'd have to go to Steeple Bumpleigh in order for my observations of Lord Percy to take place. 

'Perhaps, then, Bertram, I'll have to continue with the "sir business" as you call it,' Jeeves quipped readily. He accepted the situation for the most part as it seemed he wasn't questioning me like I had imagined. Whilst he considered what to pack I sat on the bed composing a telegram - firstly to Boko and then to my Aunt.

'You know, my Aunt Agatha's dwelling is about the last place I'd want for us to set foot in after the last time. Not only do we have that whole VFD what-sit to worry about, but we can't continue in the way we usually biff about. I mean, the aged relation barely sees you as anything beyond surrounding greenery, but she is oddly perceptive when it comes to our bond.'

'She is rather... unrestrained in that respect. Thankfully, she's never been able to prove that particular aspect of our lives,' Jeeves said as he brushed some creases out of my trousers before putting them inside the suitcase.

'As for this telegram, so far I've written: Dearest Aunt, I'm staying at my friend Boko's house for the fishing. Just thought I'd keep you abreast of my arrival in case you wished to see me. Toodlepip, your nephew, Bertram.'

'I believe that will be more than adequate.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from a translated Chakrabanti poem.


	4. Fireworks in Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A suggestion leads to another task for Bertie.

The two-seater filled with luggage, I made my way to Boko's homestead. Boko Fittleworth was not someone I had spent time with recently. He had married the lovely then Miss Hopwood - sometimes known as Nobby - meaning his time was a little stretched, what with the couple moving in together and getting used to married life. It seemed he was still writing and looking much like the same patchwork quilt of materials the artsy sort of fellow usually preferred; Jeeves did not approve. 

Boko put us up in their two newly redecorated guest rooms. Jeeves in the smaller servants room, and me in the larger, more brightly decorated one. Apparently they were readying themselves for children so the third room had began to look a little nursery-ish, whilst the servants room Jeeves was using would eventually be for a Nanny - whenever the two were blessed with a child. In comparison to my last visit, it had the distinct feeling of togetherness. There was a luminosity about the place with flowers on surfaces and curtains of a warm tone, it felt like an actual home rather than Boko's typical rest place filled with paper and a questionable amount of unclean teacups. Nobby was excited at the prospect of having guests, and told us that we would always be welcome in their home. Rather sweet of her.

Jeeves was unpacking the luggage whilst I caught up with the Fittleworths. Nobby had made lemonade from some leftover fruit and we sipped it out on the front porch in some new-looking wicker garden seating.

'How has the writing been going for you Boko?'

'Pages keep getting filled, can't say much has changed.'

'Oh, don't listen to him Bertie - he's doing ever so well! We are sitting pretty comfortably, especially now he's back from America. We've even been able to spruce up the place a bit, Boko's had to support my decorating whims, he's such an angel,' Nobby smiled.

'I noticed that. Rather natty, what?'

We continued in this familial fashion until dinner was due so we headed off in the direction of the village pub, after waiting what felt like a few hours for Mrs Fittleworth to powder her face. I told Jeeves where we were going and that he could have the evening off to do as wished. Tomorrow, I decided, I might have more vigor to face the fire-spewing Aunt, as I would hopefully be a bit better rested after a hearty meal.

—

The next morning, Jeeves coughed lightly to wake me up. I had a wash shortly afterwards, where we briefly discussed the plan for the day. Jeeves was going to try to be nearby enough to the Hall so that I felt a bit more confident approaching without invitation. He suggested I ring Charles to let him know I had arrived and would be starting my observations. This seemed a capital idea, so after dressing I got on the phone.

'Good morning, Chas!' I started.

'Bertie - I was just wondering about you over breakfast, how are things?'

'That's what I was telephoning about. I've arrived in Steeple Bumpleigh, staying at my old pal Boko's house. It's a short trip down the road to the Hall where Aunt Agatha mentioned having me for lunch later.'

'She's going to eat you?'

'I meant as a guest, but I'm sure the effect will be similar.'

'Not a bad start. Remember to tell me if anything seems off. It's incredibly important.'

'I know, I know. It's all going rather swimmingly infiltration wise. I'm sure Uncle Percy will be about the place, if not I'll keep you clued in regardless.'

'And rightly so.'

We bid each other a hearty _au revoir_ and I started my breakfast. The tablecloth was bright and homely, with a fresh vase of flowers that had seemed to appear overnight. It reminded me of a rather lovely cottage which quite contrasted the feelings of dread rumbling about the tum. That I managed to eat some toast and one fried egg alongside the usual cuppa was quite the feat.

After breakfast, according to many a healthy person, comes lunch. I was apprehensive to waltz into the dragon's lair, but the forces pulling me there were outside of my control. I felt a bit like I was partaking in a tug-of-war where I was doomed to fail, to the extent that I had placed a bet against myself. Jeeves said he would walk me over to the hall. As we were walking our hands brushed together and we both jumped and stepped apart a little more. 

'What was it that Shakespeare said about cowardice, Jeeves? Something or other about a tasting?'

'I believe you are referring to _Julius Caesar,_ sir. Caesar says "Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once".'

'Tasting death might be an accurate description of lunches with my Aunt Agatha. I don't believe Caesar had the pleasure of dining with her, if he did perhaps he'd think more kindly of cowards.'

'That might just be possible, sir,' he beamed. By beamed, of course, I mean a slight glint in the eye and the left side of his lips quirking just so. Too bad we were in an all-too-judgemental public, otherwise I would have spent the rest of the hour gazing into his shiny, pearlescent, eyes. Providing he would have let me. But, naturally, I had to grace my Aunt's table. This meant Jeeves and I split off from one another as we reached the Hall. He gave me one last look of sympathy as he glided off. I wasn't entirely aware of where he went, and didn't think much of it as I faced the kraken.

Lunch at Bumpleigh Hall felt rather like the beginnings of a storm, I'm sure you know the type, where the sky would suddenly darken and bring with it high winds and a strange pressure about the temples. In attendance of the blizzard was myself, Aunt Agatha, Lady Florence, and young Edwin. Having two unmarried members of the family at the table proved an interesting topic for the soup course. One I was keen to avoid.

'Bertram,' my Aunt sputtered, 'It's been over a year since your last visit and you still haven't been able to marry even one of the many women you've been engaged to.'

'Well yes, my dear Aunt, it's just that-'

'There is no excuse. The Wooster name cannot continue being sullied in such a fashion.'

I decided just nodding might help me get through luncheon with less hassle, that was until she made some pointed remarks about Jeeves.

'Your manservant, Jeeves, meddles far too much in family affairs. I believe if you did the right thing and let him go, perhaps I might finally get to see you do something useful with your life.'

I wobbled, my spoon falling from my hand as I gathered where exactly she was going with this. There was no doubt in my mind that she wouldn't try to pry us apart.

'Are you asking me to fire Jeeves? Dash it! I cannot begin to-'

'Do not look at me like gaping fish, and kindly stop using that sort of language at the table.'

If Uncle Percy had been there I imagined he would have looked at me across the counter with sympathy. Knowing how brilliant Jeeves is from his own experience he must have know how much a kick in the teeth it was to be rid of the man. Having to hide our relationship when traveling to country houses was bad enough, let alone spending the foreseeable apart. My heart ached like billy-o when the infamous banjolele incident happened, and I didn't want to repeat it. Losing Jeeves really did make me feel as worthless as Aunt Agatha saw me. As the man of the house was not present I didn't suppose defending myself had a point. Against the pelting vitriol a singular small umbrella is unlikely to keep anyone safe much at all.

Despite my crass judgement of the rest of the luncheon entourage, Florence actually came to my aid. 'I wouldn't worry about Jeeves, he is just a servant. Bertie is sure to find someone, Mother dearest,' the last bit she said with gritted teeth, no doubt unused to calling the old relation by such a name.

'I sincerely doubt it. Besides, you are no better off than he is, Florence darling.'

Thank goodness the soup was being taken away, otherwise the liquid might have frozen into a nasty brownish slush, the kind I definitely would have slipped on. Florence glared at the aged relation icily but thought better than to talk back, instead shooting me a look as if to say that she'd tried her best. 

The rest of meal we listened to Edwin recount his daily acts of kindness whilst Aunt Agatha complimented his healthy, boyish attitude. Every-time she said something I was tempted to roll my eyes but I kept them steadily upon my plate.

Once the nightmare was over and we all dispersed, Florence came over to me and grabbed me by the arm.

'We're going for a walk.'

Her voice was desperate and sounded more than a little pipped, so I suggested we take the long way round the gardens.

'Bertie, I just don't understand it.'

'Understand what, old thing?'

'Your Aunt.'

'Many people have tried to understand her, but have given up when they have found that she can only speak in tongues.'

'I'm going to ignore that.'

'Fair enough.'

'She is obsessed with the idea of marriage. I support myself. Besides, sales of Spindrift do well and my royalties are nothing to be sneered at. I think she just wants to not have to worry about us being in her house. Perhaps she thinks of me as in the way between her and my Father. One can't be sure of course, but she's never been warm towards me.'

'Possibly. She holds onto a lot of ideals that perhaps in these modern times we need not adhere to.'

'Exactly, Bertie! You aren't as much an idiot as your Aunt would have me believe. If we were to marry, like I expect she wants us to, then she might leave the two of us alone. However, I think at present I'm more dedicated to my next manuscript above all else. Simply put, although you would be an avid and devoted companion I fear not being able to give up my time for family life.'

I prayed silently that Florence wouldn't change her mind in the near future, because she was right, marrying each other would deter Aunt-related incidences. 

'And I wholly support your endeavours as an Authoress, old thing. Would never want you to stop on any account.'

We'd reached the roses by now and it was a beautiful scene what with the sun settling just beyond the hedgerows.

'In your current situation, though, one does imagine why your Aunt is so desperate. Your novels, whilst entertaining, hardly provide income for you. It seems like you and Jeeves will end up stuck in your London flat forever with very little changing.'

'Steady on Florence. What's wrong with entertainment?' I argued, 'Besides, what you see Bertram do is merely the tip of very hidden iceberg.'

'I can't say there is anything wrong with it, myself. I just mean your Aunt doesn't think highly of it.'

'She doesn't think very highly of your job either.'

'Not that it matters particularly. I've come to terms with the fact she'll never see my work as worthwhile - my Father, however, understands my artistry far better.'

'Unlike you, I don't have a father to protect me.'

'Then you must simply do something else to impress her,' Florence said, drawing her eyebrows together in a conspiratorial, if that's the word I mean, or perhaps furtive, way.

'And what do you suggest?' I said, as she clearly wanted to answer. 

'Have you ever heard of a man named Denouement?'

'Heard of. Fella with the recently opened hotel?'

The Denouements, of course, were another family embroiled in the VFD soup. I did not reveal to Florence that I likely attended functions with them, nor that I knew that VFD were on the fence about one of the children, because, frankly, it was a bit too much to explain to a girl who was an outsider, as it were.

'That's right. You see, my father was great friends with the whole Denouement family but has recently fallen out with them. Her ladyship was upset at this news, so, I was wondering, if you could talk to Frederick and work something out.'

Frederick Denouement, for those unaware, was the current head of the Denouement family. He was close to Charles Snicket from what I’d heard. Frederick's eldest child, was a slight liability to the organisation according to some.

'How do you propose I do this? It's not like I know the bird at all. We've never bumped into one another from what I can tell.'

'Frederick Denouement was friends with Father when he employed Jeeves, *ergo* Jeeves might be able to mend the rift.'

'Rather than asking Bertram Wooster, then, dear Florence, who you really meant to propose to solve a problem by adhering to your every whim was, and is, Jeeves.'

'Not my problem, Bertie. It solves yours. If Lady Worplesdon finds out you and Jeeves managed to convince Frederick Denouement to count the Worplesdons amongst his friends and associates again, then, she will drop both the issue of your marriage and her dislike of Jeeves.'

I wasn't too sure about this. As an experienced party regarding Aunt Agatha's hatred of Jeeves and expectations towards myself, I doubted that any small appreciation she would have of such a venture would not make my continued bachelorhood agreeable to her. I told Florence as much.

'What you don't understand Bertie is the value your Aunt places on social standing.'

'And that knowledge will help me how?'

'Knowing the Denouements is almost like knowing royalty,' she sighed at my unawareness, 'It doesn't matter much if I can't convince you. I'm sure Jeeves can. Why don't you go and propose it to him?'

'Perhaps I shall.'

I turned on my heel, as Florence tutted behind me, and headed back through the house, unaware of where I was going, since I had no idea where Jeeves was. Figuring that I would be able to meet him either back at Boko's, or find him along the way in some fishing pond or other, I made my way back through the house. On my journey through Bumpleigh Hall, rather than bumping into Jeeves, I walked absentmindedly into Lord Worplesdon. Who looked at me as if I was a dog foaming at the mouth rather than an affectionate nephew. It reminded me of the time he caught me smoking one of his cigars at the tender age of fifteen. One is not likely to forget how he traipsed across the gardens after me. Since then, Lord Worplesdon and I were much chummier. Not only because of his marriage to my Aunt, but also because the winds of time did their absolute best and removed any unpleasantness of that event from his memory.

'Do be careful, Bertie.'

'Sorry, Uncle. Was just rushing off to find Jeeves, what?'

'Jeeves? I just saw him actually, I believe he was heading out to find some milk for where he's staying, says they were running low. He wanted to consult me about... well I suppose it doesn't matter.'

'You were speaking to Jeeves?'

'Yes, I took luncheon in my rooms after he had turned up. Sorry to have missed your visit.'

'Quite alright, old thing. What exactly for, if you don't mind my asking? He never mentioned needing to speak to you, is all.'

'He just wanted my input on something. Quite insignificant really.'

Significant enough to avoid telling me, though. I'm far from the type of man who would keep tabs on his beloved companion but I couldn't help feeling put out by this. Jeeves and I rarely kept things to one another - we read each others mail even! Admittedly, I had been less than forthcoming about certain recent events and one could say I was being hypocritical, but I still didn't expect it from Jeeves.

'I see. Well, I'm going to make my way back to Boko's. Nice to see you and everything. We'll catch up another day I'm sure.'

'Oh definitely,' he said, biffing off to do whatever it is business men do.

The only thing to do, therefore, was hash out Florence's suggestion, and Uncle Percy's consultation, with Jeeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I mentioned Shakespeare again though Julius Caesar this time.


	5. Slight Air and Purging Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a reprieve before some proper drama.

I found my partner on the road connecting the village, Boko's road, and the Hall. I shouted out to him with a hearty "What-ho". He reacted by pausing and turning towards me, ready to remove his hat with one hand due to the milk he was holding.

'Good afternoon, sir. Was lunch up to standard?'

'If you only mean the food itself. My Aunt was threatening me to sack you. Not that I ever would, you understand.'

'I should hope not, sir.'

We both began walking back to the house together. As we got along the track a short way I remembered that I needed to talk to Jeeves about what happened after said meal.

'Ah, actually, Florence came up with a ruse for getting her off my back.'

'Indeed sir?'

I explained how Florence was banking on me, or rather Jeeves, mending the coldness between the Worplesdons and Denouements in order to secure the aged relation's favour. He regarded this for a moment electing to wait until I finished to voice his own thoughts on the matter.

'Her ladyship's idea is not without charms, sir. It would be quite easy to open negotiations.'

'You think so?'

'I know that the Denouements do regard Lord Worplesdon highly, despite recent events.'

'Well, I suppose we may as give it the good college try.'

'My only trepidation towards the idea would be that Lord Worplesdon might not be as affable as the other party. He spoke to me of his continued involvement with particular families being unwelcome. There is also the issue that Lady Worplesdon would only be satisfied for a short while.'

'I thought the same thing, Jeeves! My Aunt is unlikely to find reason to keep me in her good books for very long. I think, though, it might be worth doing if not for the slim chance she might count your own presence as worthwhile. However, what you said about the old Lord is going to cause problems, any way around it do you think?'

'I cannot think of anything at present, sir. Lord Worplesdon is known to be strong-willed. If you're still interested in the scheme, sir, I might suggest a modicum of caution.'

By this point in the conversation we had reached the house. Jeeves went off to put the milk away and find a suitable excuse for us to meet with Frederick Denouement, even if we couldn't get Lord Worplesdon on our side entirely. I decided to spend a few minutes reading, flicking through the copy of _The House Without A Key,_ which was still in my possession and still filled to the brim with VFD meeting minutes. I fumbled through a few pages until the distraction of the papers I had removed from it tempted me into ringing up Chas Snicket again.

He answered fairly quickly and we decided that he'd meet me in the evening at a quaint pub a few miles away to talk through both of our findings. This gave me ample time to bring up Jeeves' interaction with Lord Worplesdon. Though I have to say it took me a while to get round to it, what with exchanging pleasantries with the hosts and getting in a touch more reading.

Jeeves was in my bedroom sorting through evening wear. As I entered the lair I began, 'So, Jeeves, you spoke to Uncle Percy?'

'Indeed, sir.'

'I heard from his own mouth that you wished to see him, which makes me wonder really. You do realise Charles expected me to observe the fellow over the dinner table?'

It did make me wonder. If Jeeves was going to go off and investigate the thing himself there was little reason for me to be getting involved. I mollified these thoughts with the idea that at least the telegram business was slowly chugging along.

He looked at me in a way that asserted he was well aware what I should've been doing over luncheon, 'Sir, Lord Worplesdon and I, as you know, have somewhat of a history. He was a volunteer, though left recently.'

'Uncle Percy? A member of VFD? You're talking absolute rot Jeeves.'

'Why do you think the object of great importance was kept in property he owned, sir?'

'Oh, alright. Fair enough, I'd sort of forgotten that bit. This is getting rather complicated.'

The Wooster brain, though able to hold more information than some of the Drones members, was not entirely used to a scenario as taxing as this. I usually relied on Jeeves' input more than my own, but what with keeping secrets from him it was getting dashed hazy. The object Jeeves was supposed to collect from Wee Nooke I had rather wanted him to forget about as Jeeves was trying to be heroic and noble and keep me out of things. I wanted to be in the thick of it, though it would no doubt meet with Reginald's disapproval. It was a bit dejecting being pipped to the post so early on in the proceedings.

'Decidedly so, sir. I might suggest you prepare for your meeting with Mr. Snicket - I fear the hour has grown quite late.'

With Jeeves' advice all it took was a quick change into the appropriate black tie garb for the evening endeavour to the pub. I took the car, electing to drive alone as I still didn't really want to have Jeeves and Charles meet. Despite Charles knowing I was lying to Jeeves, there was a distinct chance that something, or someone, might slip up. So alone I went, totting away into the darkening sky.

The public house we'd agreed upon had the rather interesting title of The Hare and Ox. The place was oozing with rough village types, and I wondered if there hadn't been some sort of local sporting event that day as I took to finding Charles.

He was sat in a sofa type alcove, all brown and with dark wooden tables. The area was lit extensively with oil burning lamps, and the glow of them felt warm and comforting.

'What-ho, Charlie!'

'Bertie! Good to see you. Still using multiple nicknames for me, eh? You'll have a spot of whisky, I'm sure.'

'Oh absolutely, old top.'

He went off to grab the aforementioned spirits whilst I settled into the booth.

'There you are,' Charles arrived back with the two glasses putting one down in front of me, 'Now then, down to the main event. What's been going on?'

I explained all, giving particular screen-time, as it were, to Florence's scheme and Lord Worplesdon abstaining from the dining table in order to talk to my man.

'Interesting. I knew Worplesdon was avoiding me, but to hear he's avoiding the Denouement's as well... Well, the situation must be serious.'

'Jeeves certainly seemed to think so. He mentioned that Uncle Percy can be as stubborn as the ox painted on the sign outside.'

'Don't I know it.'

We sipped our drinks in consideration of these developments. Chas sighed a little, his lip wobbling in a way that wasn't very appealing, 'Perhaps you and Jeeves could mediate as Lady Florence suggested? If he's willing to talk to them perhaps he could be persuaded to talk to me.'

'Fallen out have you?'

'He said he'd never let me darken his door again.'

'What did you do?'

'He believes I started the Wee Nooke fire.'

'Of all the bally nerve! I can't say I'm surprised though, he blamed me originally, though to be fair I was quite close by. You're supposed to be the ones putting fires out and he turns round to blame his own comrade, a little beyond the pail, what?'

'I'd say.'

There was another beat of silence and then I remembered, 'Charles, didn't you say you knew nothing about the object in the W. N. fire?'

'You're not accusing me are you Bertie?' He side-eyed me.

'Course not. I just meant that I was surprised. I thought you knew nothing about the thing at all.'

'Oh, well, you know how these things are. They get around a group of volunteers like some kind of a party line.'

'I'm sure they do. But what I meant is that since you know a bit you can now give me the heads up on whats going on.'

'Hold your horses, Bertie.'

'I don't have a blasted horse.'

He rolled his eyes, 'I will reveal a small slither of the information as I did promise you an exchange of information. However, I would like to keep some things to myself until the Denouements and Worplesdons are once again chummy.'

'Blackmail is it, Snicket?'

'Of sorts. Besides, it's not like I know who that dashed telegram is from anyway. I've still got a bit of research to do myself.'

I will relay to you the explanation as it was given to me. So, you see, VFD wanted a better way of sharing information with one another and came up with a system with drop-off points to share their findings with other Volunteers. They called it Verified Functional Dictum. Information would reach one location and then be copied to the next and so on, until everyone in VFD had access to it. I learnt later that it wasn't exactly a linear operation but nevertheless the information would eventually be kept at all the drop-off points, and, therefore, be in too many places for our enemies to destroy. My assumptive mind jumped to the conclusion that Wee Nooke was some kind of VFD information holding place but I was quite wrong about that. Jeeves had already told me the object was only there because of Uncle Percy. As this was all the knowledge I had at the time so I couldn't help theorising a bit. It was inadequate to getting towards my original goal but felt like a step in the right direction, though I was rather stuck in purgatory until the sitch with the Denouements had changed.

I did have to wonder why Florence was the one who suggested the plan. She’s usually a woman who only seeks to gain from her suggestions - usually by forcibly making her current beau into an intellectual equal for more stimulating conversation at the breakfast table. Having me liaise between Lord Worplesdon and the Denouement family didn’t follow this pattern in the slightest. I was becoming more apprehensive about it by the minute. 

All signs pointed towards my interference in Worplesdon's affairs. A daunting prospect given that Jeeves was concerned and knew far more about Uncle Percy than I did. 

The jaunt at the pub left me feeling frustrated. Charles didn't seem to be helping all too much because of his own annoyances about Uncle Percy. I felt alone like, as Jeeves would say, a pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas (he can get overly poetic at times, as you'll see).

Suddenly, without gestation or warning, the Wooster corpus had been thrown into another fray I had no reason to be apart of. It was bound to happen more than once at any given visit to Steeple Bumpleigh so I wasn't surprised. I was, however, tired.

Back at Boko's and I was preparing for bed. Though I could usually be considered fond of an occasional night on the tiles I couldn't really be bothered. The knowledge of being within Aunt A.'s reach and far from the comfort and convenience of home was grating me until I'd all but clouded over in some smokey mist of vague unhappiness. 

Jeeves noticed my furrowed brow and asked about the young master's far from sunny disposition. I held back a little and just confided in him that I was sick of the corpus being dragged around and utilised for tasks that meant almost nothing to me. It was some effort not to bring up the Verified Functional Dictum stuff, I can tell you.

'If you'll excuse me for saying, sir, I believe you're asked these things because people know you to be loyal and helpful in their own problematic situations.'

'Suitably loyal I may be, but what if I want to do something myself and need some extra help? You don't see my friends and relations ready to sort something out on my behalf.'

The misuse of Bertram Wooster was always at the forefront of my mind when engaged in activities like this. That wasn't to say I was unaware of it other times, it was just that it effected me less.

'Whilst I do agree with you to some extent with particular friends, it very much depends on the circumstances.' He then made sure the door was properly shut and whispered close to my ear, 'You know that if needs must, I'm always here to follow your whims.'

It was nice to hear and sent quite the shiver down my spinal column. A significant raise in the heartbeat and a short murmured discussion later, Jeeves and I decided to go have a waltz round Steeple Bumpleigh under cover of darkness. There was something to be said for having a moment of reprieve before the hellish circumstances introduce themselves properly, being unaware of this I agreed to the walk readily.

There was an autumnal chill in the air that reminded me of long winter evenings where the house would be filled with steaming tea cups, mystery novels for me, and improving tomes for Jeeves. A touch of music and long lingering kisses would not go amiss on such an evening, and were certainly encouraged. In Steeple Bumpleigh we didn't have the luxury of snuggling up as close as stitches in a line of knitting, but we could share some semblance of the norm beneath a starlit sky.

'There's a strong sense of déjà vu about the place, I have reason to think we did something similar before.'

'You are referring to when we crossed paths during the original visit when Wee Nooke burned down.'

'Ah, yes, I do remember - you quoted Shakespeare of some sort, if I'm thinking rightly.'

'From _The Merchant of Venice_ , I trust. Jessica and Lorenzo sit under the stars and lament their love for one another and relish in their romantic surroundings.'

'Seems appropriate.'

'Undoubtedly. Lorenzo begins "Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold. There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings," and so it goes on. However, for the current conjecture I feel that Wilde might be more appropriate.'

'Of course he would be,' I said, a smile beginning to grow.

'"Teach me more clearly of Thy life and love Than terrors of red flame and thundering."'

'I say! My thoughts almost exactly, I'd much rather forego the red flames if at all possible.'

Jeeves mirrored my own happy expression, proud to have me understand so readily. He looked like quite the romantic chump lightened by the reflections streaming down from the moon.

'If you'll let me finish the rest of the verse...'

I answered that he should, as I was quite taken with the affectionate nature of the thing. It was unquestionably making me forget all about terrors on the horizon, reminding me that Jeeves would always be there acting as a place of rest.

'"The empurpled vines dear memories of Thee bring: A bird at evening flying to its nest, Tells me of the One who had no place of rest: I think it is of Thee the sparrows sing."'

'Not so sure that bit fits as well, old thing. Clearly I have a place to rest, even if that place is a person rather than the usual brick and mortar.'

'Excessively kind of you to say. The poet was actually referring to a passage from Luke, but the lines can be interpreted differently. I was mainly considering the first line, the memories being the time we spent here before. The no place of rest part, as you say, is less relevant, though I suppose the current situation is somewhat restless.'

'I see. That previous night, however, wasn't the ripest. I mean to say, the potting shed scenario put quite the dampener on things.'

'And yet, that small moment of reprieve remains significant my mind.'

'You complete softie.'

'I'm afraid so.'

'Be proud of it, my man! If I had my way we'd let these Denouements and Snickets sort out their own private affairs and biff off to some Island far away so I could hear you wax lyrical in peace.'

'From knowledge of your selfless personality I sincerely doubt you would allow it.'

'I suppose not, but the fact remains - I do enjoy it.'

'Would you like me to send a telegram to the Denouements tomorrow morning, then, sir?'

'If you can think of how to broach the thing I don't see why not.'

'I'll endeavour to make the communication as natural as possible.'

—

The next morning I was sitting in the bath, after a hearty portion of breakfast, contemplating what awaited me as the day was beginning. Jeeves oiled in to tell me he'd dispatched a telegram to the Denouements asking if they'd engage me in a visit. The angle of the communication was that I was in the hotel's trade. This was a bit far-fetched to me, and I told Jeeves the same.

'Not to worry, sir,' He said placing a fresh towel on the rail, 'the Denouement's are far from experienced in running hotels. They were previously a family of librarians.'

'Librarians again, Jeeves?'

'Sir?'

'There's just quite a few in VFD,' I attempted to dodge the unspoken question of my bumping into bookworms recently.

He didn't seem convinced, a look of quiet contemplation passing his map. 

'Will that be all, sir?'

'Yes, yes, Jeeves,' I waved him off, waiting until he exited the bathroom so I could sink beneath the water and boil my own head. 

I couldn't believe I let slip that I'd been talking to librarians. Hopefully Jeeves wouldn't read too much into it, but I felt like such a chump after being excessively careful about the wheeze. Perhaps I’d been overly happy with the romantic-esque poetry and lost a few brain cells to Shakespeare - it certainly seemed possible. I reasoned amongst the bubbles that perhaps it would be forgotten with the impending meeting with the Denouements. It was bound to happen soon if Jeeves' confidence was to be believed.

After getting out of the hot and steamy water, putting on tweed and such, I elected to suggest to Boko that we do something or other. He was far too busy to entertain, so I took the time to pretend to fish, as per my telegram to Aunt A., and instead sit next to the river bank reading quietly - ready for Jeeves to call upon me with a telegram at any moment. 

A few chapters deeper with the pollen fully acquainting itself with my nostrils, I noticed someone coming towards me on the bank. The person was wearing all-black in contrast to the warming orange tones and sun’s rays peaking through the trees. Clearly only Jeeves would do such a thing, so I hopped up from the grassy knoll brushing the stray pieces of foliage from the jacket.

'Telegram for you, sir.'

'From the Denouement cove, I take it?'

'One would assume so. Would you like me to read it aloud?'

'Go ahead Jeeves.'

He ripped it open in a single controlled motion, '"To Mr. Bertram Wooster, I was not aware the Wooster family had any interest in the hotel trade. I'd be willing to give you a meeting later today, over dinner, as my evening plans fell through. Frederick Denouement."'

'He doesn't sound convinced.'

'No, sir.'

'That idea of yours fell through then, Jeeves.'

'I think you'll find it worked exactly as planned.'

'How so? This Freddie man thinks I'm having him on.'

'He has invited you to dine at his hotel, despite that.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Shakespeare's sonnet no. 45.
> 
> Some thanks to the Drones chat for coming up with a great village pub name.
> 
> The rugged claws thing about loneliness is from T. S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. 
> 
> And there is yet more Shakespeare with Act 5, Scene 1 of The Merchant of Venice. The Wilde stuff in the same scene is Sonnet on hearing the Dies Iræ sung in the Sistine Chapel and the Biblical bit it references is Luke 9:58.


	6. Fire Unto Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotel Denouement and some emotional discoveries.

The Hotel Denouement was far from yawn-inducing, at least the reception was. I rather hoped the bedroom suites would allow for Morpheus to guide the guests to sleep, regardless of the bustling entrance, but I didn’t initially get to try those. Instantaneously I found this was a different hotel to what I was used to. Decadent in design, and full of reddish materials I’d see at an opera house - if I’d entered one by mistake or to try and keep up with Reg. It opposed the more subdued sorts of places I usually stayed. The clock was excessively loud and made for a great booming entrance as it bonged at the usual dinner hour.

Jeeves informed the reception of my arrival. One of Frederick’s children seemed to be working the thing if I was to take a guess, he had three children from what I knew. The boy wore rounded eyeglasses, perched just beneath and incredibly full head of fuzzy black hair which reminded me of how I imagined a bear's fur was. I once read a book on bears, it had something to do with Sicily, I believe. He stood in front of a large wooden board covered in bells with numbers under them. After a short chat with Jeeves the young boy reached under the desk and seemed to have pushed a button.

‘Frederick will be with us with a moment, sir. We’ve been instructed to sit and wait.’

So that's what we did. My leg bouncing up and down against the scarlet velvet seat as bells began to ring. The people in the hotel were rather odd, one woman, for instance, was wearing what looked like a men's suit but with her hair long and loose against her shoulders, which was the sort of juxtaposition I wasn't all too familiar with. Looked dashed good though. I relayed my observations to Jeeves and he didn't seem too bothered. Surprising since he got so pipped about fashion. Not that the suit was offensive or anything, perhaps it was just patterns he didn't like regardless of the gender of person who was wearing them.

'Mr. Bertram Wooster, I presume?' said a wiry, skinny, man in a dark grey suit. He looked a little like a squished together exclamation mark.

'The very same,' I shook his hand which was quite warm, I noticed.

'And Mr. Jeeves is here as well? Well, well. Unexpected. Not unwelcome. Let's take the elevator, shall we?' Frederick motioned past the large, impressive, clock towards sitting just above the lift door.

'I think you mean the lift, old fruit.'

'North American English tends to use elevator over lift, sir. Both can be used interchangeably.'

'I know that, Jeeves. I was trying to make conversation, what?' 

Jeeves all but physically rolled his eyes at me.

We reached the impressive structure that had curved metallic pieces arched over the door. Above the arch was written 118 in a black curving font.

'I say! There's a number up there, whatever for? Did you have some spare?'

'Very amusing, Mr. Wooster, but no. My wife and I decided to organise this hotel as if it were a library. We used to be librarians, so we were always quite fond of the Dewey Decimal System. All the rooms adhere to this system and our guests are filed as if they were books. For instance, if you wanted to find a room for say - Sir Roderick Glossop, the noted nerve specialist, you might find him in room 616 which concerns disease and has a sub-section for mental conditions. The number 118, of course, is the number for force and energy.' 

I was slightly agog at this organisational system, I'd spent a short time in libraries at Oxford and recent times but hardly remembered where particular books lie. Navigating around it would be a task that would only be viable for librarians or people with the same hat size as Jeeves.

With force and energy we went upwards, onto the ninth floor of the hotel where the restaurant we were dining in was located. Frederick explained with relish that it was an Indian restaurant - for Dewey decimal number 954 if you were wondering - and was filled to the brim with popular exoticism.

Once the door was found, and a small argument between Jeeves and Frederick had commenced about if my man was staying to eat with us - he conceded, we all settled in what looked to be the largest table in the room. The room itself was full of warming smells and the sound of idle chatter. The decoration on the walls was on the green paisley side of things, which Jeeves certainly would disapprove of as a tie pattern. The tables were done in a dark green complimenting the winding pattern and not causing any nausea to diners of conservative fashion tastes or otherwise. There were a few trinkets from India, I assumed, spotted about the place looking a bit like a marketplace. The overall effect was cosy and I was definitely interested in the atmosphere. Frederick took the ordering upon himself, though Jeeves did chip in with the drink suggestions. I sat back as a spare part in the proceedings, but excited to be able to try something new and delish.

The drinks arrived as quickly as it would be possible to pour them. Frederick exchanged a few more pleasantries and they we got, as they say, down to business.

'Mr. Wooster-'

'Bertie, please.'

'Bertie, I apologise,' he politely coughed, 'as you can see we are not the typical hotel.'

'Far from it. Dashed interesting layout and all.'

Jeeves interjected, 'It's very functional, Mr. Denouement.'

'Exactly! Function is the essence of Hotel Denouement. Reginald, Bertie, what you see here is the result of years of library science, the customer service industry, and an extensive knowledge had by our staff. Other hotels simply cannot offer what we do.'

I rather thought they did offer similar things, with less confusing rooms, but refrained from mentioning it.

'Mr. Woos- sorry, Bertie, I had no idea your family were interested in hotels but I would love to hear how it all began.'

'Well, you see,' I started not knowing where I was going with it at all.

Luckily enough Jeeves stepped in again. 'Mr. Wooster's sister currently lives in India, her husband is considering starting such a project.'

'A recent venture! I can see why you came to me. Before now I had very little knowledge of the tourism industry, my main speciality was actually in travel memoirs, but I have to say I do prefer hearing the stories from the people themselves. It's such a joy to watch the excited face of the narrator recount their sojourn in the Alps rather than reading it from the page. Embrace change, say I! I might miss extensively researching a particular area of Greece, but this is fun too, "And the tide rises, the tide falls" to quote the poet.'

The poetry was interrupted by the food distributed by an odd sort of waiter, whose name I didn't quite catch. He brought a gold metal trolley full of interesting looking dishes. Large pieces of steaming flattened bread, followed by a fried pastry filled with some deliciousness and covered in a tangy sauce. Between the eating, Frederick was trying to talk to me about my sister. As it was just a ruse I had very little to say about it. All I knew was that she had children, a husband, and seemed to enjoy it very much. I had no idea what her husband was like. Though I supposed she loved him enough to sail across an ocean, so must have been quite the catch.

'Your parents then, Bertie -'

Jeeves looked at him with wide eyes and started choking profusely. I offered him a sip of my drink, as his had just ran out.

'I do apologise, Mr. Denouement and to you, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt your discussion. My palate isn't quite used to Indian cuisine,' he looked a little sheepish and embarrassed at the admission.

'Quite alright, Mr. Jeeves. I was just asking about Bertie's -'

He began coughing again. It was so prolific and sustained that other restaurant attendees turned round to take it in, thinking at any moment he'd fall to the floor in a dramatic display brought about as result of some medical emergency. 

'Jeeves! By jove, are you sure you haven't got something stuck in the old windpipe?'

Frederick caught the attention of the waiter to bring a jug of water to the table. I filled Jeeves' glass, which he rapidly sipped from, composing himself from all the hacking.

'I say! Are you feeling alright?' I asked, mild panic crossing the dial.

'Quite so. I shall be better directly, sir.'

'Are you sure? You've gone all red...'

'I'm perfectly fine now, sir.'

Frederick looked at this exchange with interest and then seemed to think of something and smile a little, 'Bertie, would you mind going to the kitchen and getting some milk? It's not on the menu but I think Mr. Jeeves could do with a glass.'

'Of course. Anything to help.'

I headed off to the door the waiter's sprung from, missing a plate of warming curry by a hair's breadth. They looked at me in confusion until I explained I needed some milk for my man according to Mr. Denouement. A man with extremely tiny glasses fulfilled the request, and back I went carrying the creamy liquid and trying desperately not to spill a drop.

Once I reached the table again, I served Jeeves the milk in quite the role-reversal. As Jeeves drunk his way back to his normal skin colour, I'm sure in the reflection of the glass I could see a secretive sort of exchange between himself and Freddie.

'Thank you for that, sir. I feel a lot better.'

'Not a problem. Perhaps lay off the spicy stuff for the main,' I suggested with an amiable smile, trying to ignore what was going on around me for the moment and deciding to ask Jeeves a few pointed questions after we had left.

Frederick was no longer looking and Jeeves and I, but was now wringing his hands in the most awfully nervous fashion. It was quite the sight to see, as the man wriggled about like he was a leaf in a strong wind.

'Freddie? Is something the matter? You've not overdone it like Jeeves did, have you?' 

He stood up then, clouding over the nerves with anger puffing his chest out and declaring 'I am not willing to sit idly by when such a deception has occurred. Mr. Jeeves, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'

Gasps of air were let out by hotel guests, filling the room with a tension that suggested something untoward was going to happen. I had the most extraordinary feeling, as if I'd been left out of an all important conversation. All the air in the room was sucked out and I was there, a sweaty mess mirroring the shocked faces or those around us.

'What in the blazes is going on? Jeeves?'

He looked at me with cold, sad eyes. It was a look that seemed to realise he had made a huge mistake and was now going to pay for it, with extortionate interest. 'If you'll excuse me, sir.'

He left.

The panic started up in an instant and I took to my feet to try to get him to remain and stand his ground. Whatever had happened, I was sure it was fixable. This was Jeeves for Christ's sake! I grappled at his dinner jacket, trying to get him to turn around, the restaurant blurring at the edges. He didn't turn. I was sure I could see him lift his hand to wipe away tears. I wanted to wipe them away myself. Time slowed unnaturally as my hand reached my own side once again, empty and stinging slightly from friction against his clothing.

Freddie returned to my side as Jeeves took off through the hotel. He patted my shoulder in sympathy, 'Shall we forego the rest of dinner?'

I wasn't in any state to answer, re-playing the moment Jeeves' clothes slipping from my grasp over and over. Freddie guided me away from the, I assumed, astonished guests into a quiet room. I don't quite know how it happened but I sat myself down on a seat and Frederick did the same across from me. The wallpaper was sepia and covered in all kinds of lines and notes.

'I don't even know how to begin, I wish I didn't have to treat Reginald like that but it couldn't be helped.'

I was still shell-shocked and couldn't look him in the eyes. Instead I noticed a globe behind him which I fixed the corneas on.

He sighed, looking over his shoulder to what I was staring at and then faced back to me.

'Bertie, Jeeves has been lying to you.'

My soul entered my body again, 'It's not possible. Jeeves would never. I've been the one lying to him.'

'What? You know?'

'Know what?'

'Your parents...'

I wondered what exactly my parents had to do with Jeeves and opened and closed my mouth a few times trying to think of the right question to ask. During this clam routine Frederick got up again and paced across the carpet, leaving footprints with his heavy tread. He stopped suddenly, willing himself to do something awful like disposing of a decaying rat.

'Your mother and father perished in a terrible fire.'

'No, they didn't - they died in a car crash.'

Frederick gave me a sickly sort of look and came towards me, dropping to his knees until he reached my eye-level, 'There was a fire. You and your sister were going to be recruited after VFD figured out you'd been saved, but you were taken away to your Aunt's house before anyone could interfere'. He looked so sympathetic I thought he must be acting. 

I sprung a leak. Being reminded of a past you'd rather forget in a context that seemed so far from reality can do that to a man. Shifting to the absurd took some getting used it. The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of gat held upon me. I didn't much like remembering what had happened to my Mother and Father. It was difficult to hear them be brought up in such a singularly hellish context. Of course, I didn't believe Frederick at first, merely mentioning them was enough to rouse some slight wetness in the ocular region, even if I struggled to grasp what was being said. 

'It can't be true,' I all but breathed out.

'There, there, Bertie,' he rubbed his hand on my knee cautiously, 'I can't believe Jeeves didn't tell you, you see why I made him leave.'

I sobbed in a hopefully manly fashion at the mention of Jeeves' name. I desperately wanted to talk to him, I needed him more than ever. Yet, he'd gone. He had apparently lied and then disappeared. I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear as well. The globe across the room suddenly became so much more complicated. My cheeks started feeling hot against the trails the tears were leaving behind. The mixed up day was making my own brain an absolute mess.

For a moment, Frederick was gone. He rushed down the hallway into another room, I could see him opening the door as the door to this one had shut. When he returned, he held up a folder. It was cream and official looking, with a corner stamp I didn't dare read.

'Look, I know I shouldn't have delved into your private affairs but I'm afraid I couldn't stop myself. It's well known in VFD and I could never allow myself to keep a secret like that. You deserve to know, Bertie.'

I attempted to speak but it rather sounded like a frog, which reminded me of Jeeves again and made for a rather disgusting bout of throat clearing. He tried to get me to look at the file but I found I couldn't. It looked real enough to set me off into a completely panicked and mindless state. To be told now that what I thought was real, and what induced me to years of torment, was in fact, a whole other scenario. The kind of scenario that made me feel like I'd been buried in lies for an entire life time. It was at this point my stomach lurched and throat became blocked with some kind of hot terror. What was the point in overcoming my childhood aversions to roads and trips, if it would suddenly be replaced with a different kind of fear.

'Don't worry about me,' I managed, despite the warmth, rolling off the sofa and into the corner of the room. There's something I've always found reassuring in small spaces, and so there the Wooster corpus would stay until I could face what was going on.

I'm certain I looked a complete idiot. Frederick, whilst effected by events, wasn't drilling his eyes into the wallpaper - which now I looked closely was patterned with maps. I don't know how long I stayed there. Frederick Denouement set down a handkerchief and a glass of water next to me at some point. I was grateful for it. My emotions were whooshing round as if stuck in a tailspin. The facts wouldn't settle. 

'Bertie, just letting you know I need to go and help around the hotel. I'll come back later, ok? You've got your water, ring the bell over by the table if you need anything.'

By that table I knew Freddie had placed the file. Thinking about it, and what I would find in it made my brain short-circuit, like a electric lamp where the bulb had broken. The door clicked close and I could feel the lump inside my stomach grow heavy. No longer were the tears lodged in my head, but were spattering all over my jacket and shirt front. I hoped I didn't dampen the nice carpet. 

After the eyes had dried up to the point where I could see again, and a headache was making itself known loudly and painfully, I turned to the water and gulped it down in an instant. I wiped my face and mouth off with the handkerchief and managed a watery smile when I saw it was embroidered with Frederick's initials. After that I brushed out some wrinkles in my clothes, and attempted to stand. My legs did wobble, but I was surprised at how easily I was supporting myself when everything seemed to be turning into nothing before my eyes.

Curiosity, as it so often does, got the better of me and I opened up the file. There was my childhood house, I didn't realise how well I knew it. The white boxes of flowers under the windows, and the stairs I'd watched ants go about their lives on in the front garden. They were gone now. I shut it again, staring at the front of the file. The stamp on front clearly stated it was the Wooster fire file. My hands trembled and I had to put it down. I wanted to see Jeeves, I couldn't comprehend what he had done to me, and didn't really want to understand in that moment. My mind was far from stable. I wanted him to hold me until the uneasiness had gone. I wanted him to quote ridiculous poetry at me. Unfortunately, the poetry had turned to ashes, as did everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Oscar Wilde's poem, Panthea, which suggests that feeling is better than knowing. It's quite a positive poem, but the phrase fire unto fire stuck with me for this.
> 
> Frederick Denouement quotes Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls.
> 
> Bertie mentions the sorrows of death which is from the Bible, Psalm 116:3.
> 
> (For anyone interested I chose Dewey Decimal numbers for other rooms that come up in the chapter. The room Bertie is in at the end of the chapter is Dewey Decimal number 912 for graphic representations of earth. Frederick gets the file from room 904, collected accounts of events).


	7. Clueless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recuperation and research

You'll excuse the dramatic ending of the last instalment of this account, quite the cliffhanger, I'll say! Afraid this part's not much better. As with any kind of story shrouded in mystery things get worse before they reach an equilibrium, and this is no exception.

What occurred was an entirely rational, I thought so anyway, reaction to the discovery of the Wooster fire. The shock has since worn off a touch, though I'm not entirely over it. I don't think it's the sort of thing one really gets over. 

Apparently it happened when I was three years old. My sister was seven. Mother and Father foisted us on Aunt Dahlia in order to host some meeting or other, which was incredibly lucky as someone had set the house alight. My parents were the only ones inside the building, the guests having left moments before. There is little knowledge about why they couldn't escape the flames in time. Not that it matters particularly as the result was still the same. 

It was upsetting to learn that one traumatic event had been another. I wasn't in a mentally stable state, especially without Jeeves at my side. I ended up staying in the Hotel Denouement that night. I refused food, and confined myself to the room I had been given. It was room 780, the Dewey Decimal number concerning music. It wasn't chosen for my love of music, however, its choice was a coincidence. It was just one of the only habitable rooms left.

From what I remember of my first impression of it, I rather liked it. The room was a standard double-bed affair with furniture in a imposing dark wood. Frederick had made his staff make it up exceptionally whilst I had been making his wallpaper soggy. It exuded warmth, and was a nice place to tuck myself away in. There were small instruments on shelves and a few books about musical theory dotted about. The window looked out on the pond below the front of the hotel. I only looked out for a moment before shutting myself away from view.

I spent the night curled up in a not-so-standard ball shape with the headspace full of images of burnt remains and a collapsed estate. I swore I could smell smoke rising up from somewhere below my room. There was no smoke, but my brain felt a bit like a joker.

When I awoke sweaty and tired sometime in the early, usually unthinkable, ack emma I peeped through the cream curtains. The sky was still grey and no sunlight could be seen yet. I knew I wouldn't fall back asleep again. My blasted mind would not shut off, leaving the Wooster corpus a tired husk of humanity. During my restless sleep I had received one telegrams and one letter, the telegram from Boko and the letter from Jeeves. They had been stuck under my room's door. I opened Boko's communication, disregarding Reg's until I had strength to face it. Boko merely mentioned that he hoped everything was okay, as he'd been a bit worried when Jeeves had turned up that evening to pack mine and his bits to take home to London.

The telegram made me feel pretty bad for isolating myself so readily when I had been intending to stay elsewhere for the foreseeable. Keeping my friends locked out felt too far from the norm. As well as this, I also noted the intention of our visit to the hotel was spurned. I hadn't managed to bring up Lord Worplesdon to Frederick, and doubted I would be able to now. It was difficult enough to read things from others, let alone actually ask anything of anyone. Obviously I wasn't going to be by myself forever, but the current mental state wasn't up to the usual standard and I had a lot to work through first. Especially with Jeeves.

My first port of call after lounging far too long was to have a bath. I'd purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly. The ensuite seemed serviceable enough, with various bath salts and soaps stored in baskets near the basin. There was a small slit of a window just to the left of the sink which I could see whilst I was in the tub. Through it I watched the sun rise as I laid in the warm and wet. It filled the room with one solid line of gold which reflected off the porcelain. I thoroughly washed intending to get rid of the imaginary smoke smell and replace it with something strong and floral-ish. As I reached for the provided soft towels and robe to dry the corpus off I felt much more invigorated.

My stomach was fully rumbling when I'd stopped dripping in an unseemly manner. I thought I might ring for room service rather than try to find one of the restaurants. Not being too knowledgeable about library cataloging I thought it might be too mentally rigorous, that and I didn't much feel like showing my face just yet. The telephone was answered by the concierge, who I was certain had a similar voice to Frederick - something about the way he pronounced a "h" sound. I ordered a simple chicken dish. 

In half an hour or so I'd dressed, and the bear-haired boy brought up my food. It was a bit of an odd choice for breakfast, but my stomach was looking a bit like a concave and would need more than just eggs and bacon to sustain it. The poultry had been cooked in butter and roasted with some vegetables added to a pile of boiled potatoes. Alongside it I'd ordered a bottle of white wine. Also not customary for the time of day, but could you blame me? 

I ate in bed, chewing it slowly and carefully as my mind wandered off. The majority had been consumed and I set the tray outside as instructed with some scrambling at the latch. I still nursed the wine electing to sit in a rather comfortable arm chair. Halfway through the bottle I elected to open Jeeves' message. I breathed in deeply and read carefully.

_To Mr. Wooster,_  
_I hope you are doing better. I've moved your suitcases back to Berkley Mansions. I will send some clothing this evening. Let me know if you need anything._  
_Jeeves._

The breath was let out again. There was a distant anger burning up in my chest. I didn't like that he'd left me alone and didn't try to explain what was happening from his own lips. It also annoyed me that he expected I'd be doing better so quickly. Admittedly the initial wound was starting to patch up, but it still stung a lot. I felt guilty as well, in a way, for being angry at him though I sure was justified in feeling it. 

It drained me to be this emotional so I toppled back into bed for a quick thirty minute snooze. It lasted quite a lot longer than I'd wanted. I was awoken at 3pm, according to the bedside clock, by a loud rattling bang at the door. Scrambling off the bed, pulling blankets with me, I opened the latch to see the impeccably dressed Frederick Denouement in front of me. It made me feel a little bit like I was that small, shy, child I once was, removed from my usual equilibrium into a different world.

'Afternoon, Bertie,' he said. I didn't respond. 'Your man brought up some things he thought might be useful. There's a case with clothes, and another that has books and such.'

My eyes boggled, 'He brought them?' I asked. I thought he just said he was going to send them over as stated in his telegram, not that he would physically be here.

'Not ten minutes ago.'

I ran out the room in my rumpled suit and bird's nest adjacent hair. Frederick's arm stopped my trajectory and it hit me sharply in the ribs. With annoyance I attempted to push past him.

'Bertie, stop. You don't need to run off and get lost somewhere. He is waiting in reception for me to tell him your things were delivered.'

'He didn't want to see me?'

'I told him to wait there. I didn't want him disturbing you. I thought you shouldn't see each other just yet.'

This peeved me a bit. Of course I was pipped at Jeeves, but it worse not knowing why he'd done what he did. It was painful to cut him out of things when I'd been so used to him in my life. 'That's not for you to decide,' I said. If I was the type of person to tut, I would have then. The tiny child brain I still had pestering me somewhere would have done anything to feel less lonely, it seemed that very little had changed.

'Go ahead, then,' Freddie removed his arm with some reluctance.

I thundered through the hallway to the lift, pressing the button several times with force to get the bally thing to go quicker. 

When I saw him, sat primly in the seat we'd waited for Frederick Denouement in the day before my heart pumped quick as a hummingbird in my chest. His suit was crisp, face was clean, and his shoes polished, but his face looked recklessly tired. There were bags under his eyes that he could've packed my clothes in. He spotted me and he stood up, looking somehow both rumpled and put-together. Emotionally I could tell he was shattered but his outwards appearance hid it well enough, unless he was your specific dream rabbit.

'Sir?' He started, moisture in his eyes more than I would've expected. Maybe he though we'd never speak again, I twitched at the idea.

'Jeeves.' It was all I could say.

'Did you rest well, sir?'

'Hardly.'

There was an unspoken thingness about the moment, where Jeeves was facing the floor rather than looking at my face. He seemed regretful, and despite me thinking up to that point I was going to forgive him and everything would be mended between us in a sweeping romantic moment, I couldn't help trying to find out why he had did it.

'You lied to me,' I said. It was more of a statement than a question but it was definitely a start.

'I regret to say so, sir.'

'Why?'

He looked up then, my own wide-eyed reflection mirrored in his sad expression.

'I thought it would upset you.'

'Did you not think I'd be upset when I finally found out?'

'I wasn't sure you would ever know, sir. My intention was to shield you. I can now see that was a terrible mistake.'

'Too right it was, Jeeves! You can't keep the circumstances someone's own family's deaths to yourself. My own parents, Jeeves. I didn't know they had been intentionally killed.' There was a desperation in my voice that sounded panicked to my own ears, let alone Jeeves'.

'I do apologise, sir. I didn't want to cause unnecessary harm towards you.'

That he tried to give an explanation for his deception upset me more than I could envisage. It sounded like he'd been weighing up reasons like a philosophical dilemma rather than toying with his partners emotions. It stirred me up greatly. I rather prickled like a hedgehog - ready for him to step on.

'The harm has been caused anyway. If it was anyone else, not that it ever would be, I would ex-communicate them.'

'I-'

'No, Jeeves. Don't attempt to plead your case. I shan't hear it. I'm going to stay here for a little while. You can start on finding employment elsewhere.'

The Jeevesian eyes blinked at me. He nodded and said with no expression 'I shall. Goodbye, sir.'

This time the pain was lessened but a hot release of adrenaline. That would show him, I thought, Bertram need not pay attention to a man who thought it was acceptable to keep me in the dark about such important events. Though I'd been adamant to remain with Jeeves through thick and thin, this suddenly felt far too thick to bother. It was like getting rid of icicles, chopping away at the rotten things rather than waiting until it got warm again for them to melt into nothingness. Seeing him trying to communicate with me in a way that would instill guilt in me did the opposite. I could no longer feel guilty or alone; I felt numb with power. The memories of what we had and how close we were mixed with whatever the hell was happening now made things unbelievably complicated. I wanted things to be simple, like the end of a romantic musical comedy, but apparently life didn't have a neat plot no matter how much I willed it into existence.

Intentionally disdainfully I turned my nose up, and meandered back to my room. There Frederick was waiting at the door.

'What happened?'

'None of your business,' I shut the door in his face, ignoring the look of abject shock that my mind conjured him up as having at the wood slamming.

Bitterness consumed me. I found the now room temperature wine and poured myself another glass as a way of calming my anger. 

On the periphery of all the emotion-having I'd been suffering with the past few days another thought popped into the grey matter. Perhaps there was yet another way I could get back at Jeeves - solving who the telegram was from. 

He had been adamant that I not be involved, to the point that now, with new information, it made me reconsider his intention in the first place. Perhaps he'd decided that me being involved with VFD would lead to the discovery of his lie to me. Now I was sure I could see it all - the scales withdrawn from my eyes. If I, then, became more involved in VFD not only could I learn more about myself, it would also be excellent to beat Jeeves at his own game. If he could lie, then, as I had been proving, so could I. 

I imagined a dramatic confrontation with all of the Volunteer Fire Department turning their backs towards one of their greatest members. Deeming him less worthy, as they had once done to me, due to his ignorance of what I had discovered. 

On reflection it was a moment of instability that caused my thoughts to turn so darkly against my man. I never intended to hurt him through my lying, in fact I'd wanted to relieve him from a burden at first. I'm sure Jeeves had very similar reasons for lying to me, which I know now as fact. At the time, however, a mixture of heightened tension, anger and jealously had all boiled over at the same time and a concoction of revenge was what resulted.

I put down my glass, filling it to the top again but leaving it to rest on the table next to the armchair. Instead I reached for the suitcases Jeeves had brought. I rifled through, disrespectfully tossing clothing towards the wardrobe rather than inside it. I noticed Jeeves had put in an additional natty tie I'd stared at in the shop window many a time, but had never been permitted to purchase. I squirrelled it away under the bed. There would be no symbols of reconciliation if I could help it. 

At the bottom of the first case I noticed Jeeves had also packed my copy of _The House Without A Key_. This caused a moment of panic when I thought Jeeves might have looked through it and found the VFD meeting minutes I'd hidden there. It passed, however, with the knowledge that it no longer mattered if I had misled him. If he discovered the notes, why should he mind that I was doing something against his wishes? He'd been swindling me for far longer.

Re-discovering the notes did also give me a way to get back into the researching mindset. I fully intended to immerse myself in the inky depths of the organisation yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Purge, leave sack and live cleanly' bit is from Shakespeare, King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Scene 4.


	8. Cold Ashes Can Still Hold Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-introducing Charles Snicket to the narrative.

Room 780 quickly became an utter mess. The space above the bed was occupied with ripped out notebook pages, photographs I'd stolen from the Hotel archives, pieces of string and other scraps of information. Despite all the collected scraps, I couldn't fit everything together. It was like I was reading a really topping mystery, like one by that Rex West chappie, but none of the clues seemed to fit.

Reader's might not remember the three clues I discovered in the VFD meeting minutes at the beginning of this tale. They were that C. C. was going ahead with something, B. was destroyed, and L. W. was being dealt with. Since then I had also learned about the Verified Functional Dictum; which was a system Volunteers were using to keep their information safe and available for all their members without there being a problem if something was destroyed. Charles Snicket provided this last bit of information but was banking on me getting Uncle Percy and the Denouements all chummy again for the all-important context clues and connections. As this had not gone ahead, due to my waterworks and sub-sequential firing of my man. I was therefore reduced to try to piece the picture together myself _sans_ Snicket, Jeeves, and anyone else who might have actually known something. 

This proved difficult. The clues listed above were snippets of what I could decipher from the notes, and I'd made little progress in understanding what the letters stood for. I couldn't work out if they were names for people or for things. Abbreviations and initialisms have never come to me as easily as they have for other VFD members, then again, I suppose I've never had to do a codes class when I was growing up. I did work out one of them, however. I was fairly certain that C. C. was a place. A drop-off point for the Verified Functional Dictum scheme. Beyond this I knew very little about what was "going ahead" there. I assumed there would be materials arriving at C. C., I was sorely mistaken. There would have to be the same files in every point of interest. I needed a map, and not just the one I'd found of Verified Functional Dictum locations. That particular map had abbreviations of the locations, one of them being where I was staying. If there was a particular document sent off to C.C., it would be here too. 

Lost as I was in a papery maze leading nowhere, I thought I might look for a lead. Everything in the organisation was endlessly cryptic, behind hundreds of references to high-brow literature I hadn't touched since I was in Eton colours, so much so that I was never going to be able to do it alone. I'd come full circle, back round all the way to being an ignorant bystander and desperately needing some advice. Figuring that Charles could have forgotten about the blackmail and might just take pity on me, I decided to send him a telegram as a complete last resort.

_FROM: BERTIE WOOSTER_  
_TO: CHARLES SNICKET, SNICKET MANSION, THE CITY_  
_DIRE STRAITS (STOP) IN HOTEL DENOUEMENT (STOP)_  
_FIRED JEEVES DUE TO CIRCS (STOP)_  
_NEED HELP WITH THE RUMMY TELEGRAM (STOP)_  
_BERTRAM_

Instead of relying on the hotel services I opted for the reliable folks at the Post Office. That way there was no chance of other Volunteers getting a whiff of what I'd needed.

After sending off the communication, I bided my time re-organising the paper above the bed yet again. This time I moved the map of the Verified Functional Dictum locations to the middle and put the other scraps I'd found around it. The pages of the meeting minutes I'd found interesting were stuck closest to the map. There was also a corner for the Wooster fire file I tried hard to ignore. I lit a gasper, staring at the papers my thoughts jumping about like sparks from a bonfire. 

After another two cigarettes had been piled into the ever-growing ashtray on the window-ledge, and I frustratedly started moving discarded cups onto the tiny desk near said window-ledge, I thought I might do something else. As much as I'd been consumed by the mystery of VFD, I did do other things at the hotel. When I became annoyed or couldn't sleep I headed to either room 178 (Ethics of consumption, or The Coffee Shop) or room 786 (Keyboard and Other Instruments). Though The Coffee Shop was a relaxing jazz-filled establishment, I needed something that was going to occupy my mind. I, therefore, chose room 786.

The room held a mixture of instruments and was often empty, at least whilst I was staying. A slightly dusty concertina was on a shelf just to the side of the piano, as well as what looked like some books on how to perfect a concertina performance. The piano itself was a beautiful shiny black that demanded to be played. Without my usual array of musical comedy sheet music, I lacked new compositions and was either had to perform from memory or whatever sheet music was sitting about in the room. The concierges, I'm certain, could have gotten me what I needed, but I preferred to move about independent to the rest of the hotel. It wasn't too bad. I was getting quite alright at all those tricky Chopin polonaises, though I obviously peppered the classics with a few of the Drones' favorites. 

My fingers diligently tickled away at the keys, filling the room with notes aplenty. Midway through a difficult snippet of a scale there was a knock on the door. My hands dropped into my lap as the fluffy-haired child came in the room.

'Mr. Wooster?'

'The very same.'

'Telegram for you.'

He set it on the piano and scampered off.

I prized the thing open. It was, obviously, Snicket's response. He said he'd be at Hotel Denouement in an hour or so. That likely meant he was going to help me, so I could attempt to relax a bit more. I had been wound up tightly as a ball of string and desperately needed to unclench my jaw. The Chopin fell to the floor and I began playing something with a bit more vigor, the classic jaunty *Oh By Jingo*. I flittered about in this fashion for a while, desperately trying to avoid songs that would remind me too much of Jeeves. Isham Jones was definitely out for the foreseeable. 

Snicket entered the room several songs later, when I switched back to the more classical numbers. He raised an eyebrow at my slightly disheveled state instead complimenting my piano playing. I thanked him with a quiet blush, usually only used hearing nice things about my music in recent times from Jeeves, and only when it was a song he approved of. 

'How have you been, Bertie?'

'Not too bad,' I said with an air of nonchalance.

Charles frowned, 'I see you haven't stopped lying.'

'Considering the circs I'd still say I was doing relatively well.'

'I would disagree. Have you eaten anything today?'

'A mouthful of toast and some tea earlier, I believe. I just haven't been too hungry today. Yesterday I ate a veritable feast, and after that I still had room for dessert. Besides, you're not here to quiz me on how I've decided to live my life - we're supposed to discuss the ridiculous telegram and object situation.'

'Yes, yes, all in good time. But first, we are having some food. It's getting close to dinner and I spent the last two hours stuck in a car.'

Charles picked the restaurant this time, after we'd both dressed for the occasion. Knowing the Hotel Denouement better than I did he didn't have to ask anyone or find a catalog to find a room that wasn't an Indian. We went to room 945 which was a rather cosy looking Italian. I'd eaten Italian before in America, but it was far less homely than it was in the hotel. Candles-lit the place in a dim yellow and beautiful foliage tangled in wooden beams above us. It was a bit romantic for the situation, what with Charles being affianced and me having broken things off with Jeeves, but it was pretty. I would have loved to have visited before the mess.

I chowed down on a manicotti with ricotta and an orangeish tomato sauce that had large chunks of roasted tomatoes in. Snicket ordered some ravioli filled with something similar to mine but more spicy, and *sans* sauce. The waiter had the same shifty look as the one in the Indian restaurant and I was starting to think they were either the same person or were related. As the flavors danced upon my tongue in a peppery sort of foxtrot I realised Charles had distracted me.

'I say, Chas. It seems with all this food nonsense we've somewhat neglected the whole reason I called you down here.'

'We can hardly talk about things in public. One needs tact.'

'Of course, old thing, but I have to say I'm getting moderately agitated about the thing,' I said through forkfuls of beautifully yellow pasta.

'I can see that. Let's go over it somewhere more private. Anyhow you need to tell me why on earth you're stuck in hotel. You were supposed to be helping me out. I hardly think you can observe someone for me all the way out here, even if you are trying to reconcile him with the Denouements.'

'It all sort of blew up in my face,' I began, explaining the affairs between Jeeves, Frederick and I.

Chas Snicket grew perturbed. His face took on a brooding sort of nature, looking not dissimilar to the one I had when attempting the morning crossword. Not the cryptic one, as you might have expected, but the standard one. Still dashed difficult, mind you.

As much as he furrowed the old brow I got more and more singularly uncomfortable. I commenced reaching beyond the foggy haze of my own problems, into a realm I had found difficult to care about after such a knock - namely, other people. What little thought I had given to the world outside the revenge I had sought dissolved around the edges. I began to identify my own flawed judgement that had led me into the malice.

Snicket cleared his throat and then said with some pomposity, '"Even so my bloody thought, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up."'

These VFD chaps, as I may have mentioned, do love a bit too much of the literary gubbins for my tastes. I could stick a bit of loving poetry here and there, but I was not in the mood at the present moment. I also had very little idea what Charlie was doing slapping me round the face with something difficult to understand over a pleasant dinner when we'd both been a few glasses in by now.

'I mean to say, what are you blathering on about?'

'It's Shakespeare. Othello is told by Iago that his lover might be seeing another and reacts with vengeance. Iago warns him that he could be wrong and should be cautious. What I quoted is Othello response.'

'And?' I asked, swallowing the lump rising up in my throat.

'You do know what happened to Othello, don’t you Bertie?'

I shook my head.

'Othello killed his wife in anger, and then stabbed himself, after finding there had not been an affair.' 

'You're comparing me to that babbling idiot?'

'Perhaps. I just wanted to suggest that maybe decisions made in moments of emotional turmoil are not always the best.’

I did agree with him, but rather than admit it I hung my head with some shame. Being compared to someone who anguished in the midst of what I considered to be my own agonizing demise was a bit too much on the revelations front.

‘It concerns me,’ he continued, ‘Your former man has been sticking to Lord Worpleston as is, which was my initial request. Only with you both being parted in such a way, Reginald is reluctant to talk to me about it.’

I stuck to drinking wine at intervals until Snicket finally shovelled the last morsel past his lips. He was an excessively slow eater, and I wanted to be done with the damn stuff so we could move onto topics where he didn't judge my poor behaviour like Sir Roderick Glossop on a particularly forceful day. 

We left the restaurant shortly after he'd finished and retired to my room. I suggested we ordered the customary after-dinner cocktail, but was disregarded. I happily drunk mine as Snicket instead made a proposition.

‘What I’m saying, Bertie, is I need you to talk to Worpleston.’

'You're really asking me to help you again? After how much I've managed to bungle it so far?'

'Well, I can hardly ask Jeeves after all this. Besides, we had an agreement. You can't stay here forever either.'

'I know that much.'

'It's not just for my benefit, Bertie, I think being surrounded by things you know might help. You're in a grieving state. Realistically you won't get better if you spend all your time holed up here re-wallpapering,' he said giving an uncomfortable look to the collaged clues above my bed frame.

'Not to quibble, but if you don't want me so concentrated on the telegram issue why are you sending me back into the fray?'

'But then you won't just be trying to do one thing. I don't think it's healthy. You'll turn into Othello.'

'I'm certain I won't. Shakespeare aside, anyway, I need to ask you a few questions about the bits and bobs you think are so disruptive to a healthy mind.'

'I'll answer, but if you're not out of the hotel in three days I'll drag you, and your... art, out myself.'

This seemed like a fairish deal to me, so I launched into the questions. My main one was to do with what the heck all those initials stood for. C. C. had the potential to be either the Caligari Carnival or Curdled Cave from what I'd seen on the maps. Which one made a difference to what was likely to be going on, at least in my mind. Snicket said he was sure that it definitely referred one of the locations I had figured out, but he couldn't be sure which. He also didn't know if it was connected to the telegram. It wasn't a whole lot of help, although it definitely made me feel more confident in my own investigations. Reassuring me I was somewhat able to work things out. The B. that had been destroyed, Snicket had even less information on. It was dashed rummy. All this time I'd been relying on someone who seemed to know nothing about the secret society he was apart of. I daren't say it when he was in the room, but I thought he was trying to drag out my investigation as long as possible.

When I'd reached the final piece about about L. W. being "dealt with" he entirely clammed up, profusely arguing that it wasn't important at all and had nothing to do with the telegram. This shocked me a little. I chosen the thing because it stood out as being related to the others. It was in the same ink as the other two sentences and began with an initial. There was nothing else in the meeting I'd chosen written this way, so I hesitated to believe him.

He left shortly after, looking embarrassed and annoyed at not being able to answer me properly. I was more than a little pipped. Charles either was uninformed or lying, and I knew that he couldn't be uninformed - at least from what I'd heard from Jeeves. I didn't quite know who to believe at this point. From what I could see everyone in VFD was keeping secrets from one another all of the time. Charles was attempting to lie to Uncle Percy, that dashed librarian, Qwerty, had lied when he seemed to have believed me, Jeeves had lied to me, I had lied to Jeeves and so on. Everybody seemed to be running off into schemes without conspiring properly. When at first I'd seen VFD as an organised, intelligent, group that all worked together the cracks were beginning to show. Rippling across the organisation and causing all the crockery to be destroyed and unusable.

This necessitated a candid conversation with a VFD member and, preferably, one I hadn't fired. It needed to be someone I still felt was trustworthy in someway, the only person I could think of was one I'd already attempted to lie to. I went off in search of Frederick Denouement to see if he could give me a leg up regarding Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from adapted Canterbury Tales line - Reeves' Prologue, line 3880.
> 
> Also Othello.


	9. Checking Out

Frederick seemed a bit cautious around me, from what I could tell. I didn't blame him. After the whole firing Jeeves thing I'd ignored him trying to be a friendly face. There was little tension between us since then, and we'd been avoiding each other. I think he doubted I wanted to see anyone and was guarding my emotions. If I'm honest, I probably was. He did try to continue to stop me seeing Jeeves, indicating that he foresaw our parting of ways. I didn't quite advocate his initial actions yet, since I wasn't aware of Jeeves' side of things. His hold on me did mean that I would frequently be seeing Frederick, that and living in his hotel for the moment.

It was quite late in the evening after Chas had left and I didn't want to go to bed. Gripped by this restlessness I went to seek the Denouement family head. I asked at the reception desk where I might be able to find him. My eyes wandered to the bench where Jeeves and I had our spat, a feeling of dread spread from my toes upwards. It wasn't pleasant. I ferreted back into pondering the mystery I'd been intent of solving instead, trying to ignore the acidic feeling growing in my stomach.

I was told that he'd be in the staff's quarters. I'll be the first to admit this surprised me; he seemed the sort of cove who would be pulling strings of his business far away rather from the depths of the staff quarters in the basement. 

Hurtling down there after some concern from the younger Denouement, I walked past dozens of well-kept rooms for hotel staff. The managers portion of it was a bit bigger and more like a suite in comparison to the other rooms. The whole place reminded me a bit of an ocean-liner, with a sprawling sort of layout and sectioned off bits for the people earning the most. I found the Denouement's suite off to the side of a shared dining room, as had been described to me. A few staff dressed with reddish accents, to go with the whole theme of the place, stared at me with eyes the size of the plates they'd been eating off. I took it in my stride.

The suite itself was a roomy modern sort of a place. The lamps had square bases and matched the very rectangular seating. I was let in by Frederick after he gaped at me for a short moment. He poured me a w. and s. reluctantly, then closed off all the doors so presumably his wife wouldn't be disturbed. I wouldn't have minded meeting her, but it was relatively late and it looked as if I'd disrupted their usual schedule.

'Good evening Freddie,' I began trying for a trifle less serious than would have been useful.

'So, why are you in my family's rooms?'

'It was rather urgent. I've just been talking to Charles Snicket, you see, and he's worried me a touch.'

I explained that Chas was not following through on his promise to help me regarding the research of the lost object at Wee Nooke, which was concerning since he was my main contact from VFD. At that the coolness dissipated and Freddie warmed to me once again, it seemed he also had some issues of Charles' conduct as of late.

'Typical of him, honestly.'

'How do you mean?'

'The Snicket family tend to look out for themselves before giving out favors. You're lucky to have got that first bit out of him.'

'Really? He seemed quite the supportive fellow.'

Frederick put his glass down, 'Supportive, yes. Self-serving too. He always wants an exchange of some kind. Not that he can't be useful, of course, though it does seem like he has been using you a little bit. He clearly has known far more than he's let on.'

'Do you know anything that could help?'

'Not about Wee Nooke. Nor the rest of the Verified Functional Dictum. We've been quite busy setting up our own part of that. I can always open up the full archives for you if you'd like.'

I replied that would be a topping idea, if he'd be willing.

'It's not a problem, Bertie. I'd rather you didn't ask me these things in the middle of the night, however.'

The archival rooms of Hotel Denouement were far underground, beneath the pond in-fact - with a glass ceiling which a glimmer of the night sky could just about be seen through. 

Frederick wouldn't let me wander about alone, claiming the place to be far too much of a mess. It was only recently made and nobody had systemized the place yet. Frederick seemed embarrassed by this and had me wait in the room below the pond. 

The room itself was quite cosy, with a large brown leather chair and some chutes above the "in" and "out" trays on the desk. This room was arranged perfectly well. I even spotted a nice little tea set hidden next to the door. 

Frederick joined me again with two freshly bound tomes. They were both red leather volumes with gold gilding and the initials H. D. on the spine, no doubt signifying it was from the Hotel Denouement. 

'This first book is a comprehensive copy of initialisms used by VFD, organised alphabetically - you've worked out possibilities for C. C. but perhaps it could shed some light on the other things. The second is newspaper articles in print form from the Daily Punctilio, it's not a reputable source by any means but it does tend to give accounts of fires. This is volume three which includes the report of the Wee Nooke fire, and was likely written by a volunteer.'

'Thanks awfully, old thing. You don't need to help me this much.'

'Think of it as a manifestation of my guilt.'

I wanted to ask what guilt, but then realised he'd meant my parents and subsequent erasure of Jeeves from my life, 'Quite,' I said simply for a lack of anything better to say. 

He needn't have felt guilty, in my eyes I was bound to find out one way or another. As for the thing with Jeeves I was fairly certain that was my own decision, I didn't regret it. Knowing that I was well on my way to getting my own back, definitely helped some small part of me that did miss him. Any regret I had was shortly washed away by the excitement of the chase.

More gratefulness from me towards Freddie ensued for a short while until he looked at his pocket watch and suggested we both retire. He'd be helping guests check-out in the early morning. This worked out quite well as I was looking to put some proper reading in now that Frederick had come up with the goods.

—

I sat at the desk provided. It was half the size of the one back in my flat, and my elbows hung slightly off the edges when I leaded on it. The binding was hard against my hands keeping the pages down. Nobody had worn in the spine of this edition of VFD's abbreviations. It worked a little like a dictionary, with letters in bold at appropriate places in the alphabet. I looked up B. first. There were five entries, one of which could be discounted since it was B. B. (Briny Beach). The four potential options were, then, limited to *bambino*, banker, book and burglar. Any one of these people or things could have been destroyed, though I really hoped no children were involved. 

I rang the concierge for a notebook to write my findings. They brought one up as quickly as possible and provided a smooth ink pen. I took down the paper above the bed and covered the desk space with it. After it had all been placed back so that I could see it properly, I jotted down all the elements. 

The leather books were placed atop of the mess as I quickly flicked to the C's. Although I knew what was going to appear under the heading C. C., I wanted to check my workings. With a reassuring flick of the wrist I wrote down Caligari Carnival and Curdled Cave. Next I skimmed to the letter L. Sure enough, there was only one entry for L. W., Lord Worplesdon. 

I sat back in my chair, my pen resting on my bottom lip. It was quite a bolt out of the blue. Charles Snicket didn't want me knowing Lord Worplesdon was connected to this mess. I knew he was somewhat involved, what with the object being in his cottage, but had no idea he played a bigger part. Jeeves had insinuated Uncle Percy had enough of VFD; which would make sense as he seemed to be focusing on his business. 

It had reached sunrise by the time I’d found all of this out. The sun began to shine through the curtains adding a yellowish glow behind them. Squinting a little, I put the pen down and stared at the words until they turned into greying lines. Seeing the sun pop up like that led me to call for reinforcements on the caffeine front. I ordered some room service coffee and sat on the bed for some extra comfort whilst I was waiting for it.

A slighter older-looking concierge to the usual one brought up the elixir and put the cup on a tray upon the bedside table. She told me that the tray also contained a wire I'd received first thing that morning. I added my usual drop of milk and stirred carefully, putting off the inevitable opening of the little envelope. I sipped and composed myself with a stabilising breath. 

TO: BERTRAM WILBERFORCE WOOSTER, C/O HOTEL DENOUEMENT, THE CITY  
FROM: LADY WORPLESDON  
YOU HAVE FINALLY FOUND SENSE AND FIRED JEEVES MY HUSBAND TELLS ME (STOP)   
VISIT BUMPLEIGH HALL SOON (STOP)

I let out the breath. With the Aunt swarming in so quickly she no doubted wanted to scoop Bertram up and introduce him to an obliging filly. It reminded me of that Ogden Nash bit, "Just when you think that at least the outlook is so black that it can grow no blacker, it worsens." Things were certainly going to worsen with the aged relation snapping at my heels. Now Jeeves was gone I'd lost my protective barrier towards engagements I'd been reluctant to partake in. I doubted that past my understanding with Reginald, I'd never be able to dedicate myself to a relationship again. I didn't think I could no longer love, but that I could no longer stick having those feelings reciprocated if it wasn't by a paragon like Jeeves. That is to say, nothing appealed to me less than the prospect of courting.

I tossed the telegram to the floor hoping it would disappear. The old corpus was a bit rattling and I wished something stronger than coffee, not that I had the wherewithal to go get anything. I swigged the cupful down in a couple of mouthfuls and considered how to clean up the metaphorical mess. 

Though the grey matter had become accustomed to the research I'd been doing, the prospect of having a practical example I needed to solve put a dampener on things. The cogs in my head weren't used to rainy conditions. Whilst all this thinking was going on I figured that it would be as apt a time as any to start re-organising myself. If I was going to be summoned by Aunt Agatha soon, I may as well have my usual comforts closer by than a Hotel on the edge of the map. My packing wasn't nearly as neat as Jeeves' had been and I did have to request extra luggage from the concierge so I could carry all my new bits and bobs, like the books and notes I'd taken. 

Upon hearing that I was packing Frederick came to visit me, checking that everything was oojah-cum-spiff with my sudden leaving. I explained that for the wrath of Agatha I wanted to settled somewhere within a short drive.

'Are you going to look for Mr. Jeeves when you're back in London?' He asked shiftily.

I stood from pushing clothing down to fit more flush in the suitcase, 'It's unlikely. Why do you ask?' 

'Nobody at VFD has heard from him since he was fired.'

'That was only a few days ago, I don't see why that would be worrying.'

'It's been two weeks, Bertie.'

That shocked me a bit. Time was wobbling out of it’s usual order.

'Two weeks still doesn't seem long enough to worry like a fretting mother hen - you ought to put yourself first. I thought you were on my side of the situation.'

'I don't think taking sides ever ends well. Usually Jeeves is prompt in his volunteering duties. I was less concerned about him and more worried you would end up messing things up further if you were only going back to seek him out.'

'You mean to say you don't want me to get hurt if he's moved on? It was my decision Frederick. I am completely fine without him - see, I can pack a suitcase myself! Besides, I ought to leave here. I don't want to stop you from getting guests and I do desire a semblance of the norm.'

'It's your choice. I'm just making sure you want to take it. If you do need anything I'll help out if I can.'

'Very decent of you.'

I'd finished the packing and Freddie offered to help me with the bags. The two-seater was still parked nearby where it had been left when I'd fired Jeeves. We put the luggage in the back and Freddie informed me I owed him nothing for the stay and left to go help the reception. I snuck back inside to pay a tenner or so at the front desk, mainly just to feel slightly better about imposing on the fellow for weeks to mope about. 

I drove off with some fear blooming in the chest. Frederick had completely rem acu tetigisti-ed the problem with moving back to London. I would be far more used to the place as it was when I experienced it with Jeeves; being without him was alien to my habits at home these days. I couldn't be entirely certain that I would react to my new life badly, but knowing how I'd felt isolated when the man had just gone for his annual leave did not bode well. Now I was out of the confines of Hotel Denouement and my new focus there, it seemed impossible to imagine how I would fare in the thick of things. My break had been needed, but I suddenly felt unprepared to face family and friends who knew me as part of a team - part of the Jeeves and Wooster duo. There was no helping it, though. I couldn't be a hotel recluse for the rest of my life. I'd have to face up to my poor decisions sometime, and I'd prefer it to be sooner than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am back! After a bit of a break.


	10. Jealousy Is Cruel As The Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie is back in London.

Berkley Mansions was the exact same, if eerily quiet, as when I had left it to go to Boko's house. A bit of post had gathered in the letter catcher and whilst the doorman brought the bags in I perused it. Most of them were worried sorts of messages from my fellow Drones which were very welcoming. With the cases in, I set off to said club for a spot of food and a catch-up before biffing off the the agency to see if they could provide me a new valet. As whilst I was determined to do things by myself, a bit of extra help to patch up the homestead as I was chasing leads wouldn't go amiss. 

The Drones had the same crowd as always on a Wednesday lunchtime. Catsmeat was on his bar room stool, with Tuppy reluctantly talking to him. I elected not to join them, though Catsmeat did catch my eye, and instead ate next to Oofy who was doing a dramatic re-telling of the time he won fifty quid on a horse that he was given a tip about. Riveting stuff I can tell you. The food weighed me down considerably and I listened to the club chatter whilst swirling back the drinks.

After a while, when Tuppy had disappeared and the gramophone had been playing some jazzier numbers, I got up ready to grab the old whangee and hat when Catsmeat grasped my arm. 

'Bertie,' He said, 'I heard you've fired Jeeves.'

I affirmed that I had in fact let the man I considered one of the only people I could trust go, and Catsmeat shook his head in disbelief.

'He really was a mastermind of a valet you know.'

'I know. You talk of him as if he were dead, however, I am inclined to believe he is alive and well.'

'Oh, I know he is. He works for Lord Worpleston now, didn't you hear?'

I had not heard. It was a bit disconcerting to know that perhaps I'd bump into my ex-gentleman's personal gentleman sooner than I had imagined. I wanted to leave immediately to brood over the possible confrontations in my head, but rather than spiral into that particular kind of inevitable late-night thinking I told Catsmeat I hadn't heard and that I needed to procure a new valet before it reached cocktail hour. It was, of course, nowhere close to cocktail hour but the need to get out remained.

The Drones far behind me and the agency right in front, I went in to replace my man. The conversation, much like the last time I was in the building, was stilted. They knew that I had fired Jeeves, for that kind of news travels fast what with the Junior Ganymede, but lacked the same sort of paragon of a valet. Past the point of politeness I just told them to send me whoever was free as long as they knew with some certainty that the man would not steal my silk socks. I'd already had far too much of that in my adult life, and did not wish to spent anymore of it searching for lost pairs of argyle. They agreed to send someone by tomorrow.

Back in the old HQ again, and I mixed myself a b. and s. just for something to do really. I contemplated unpacking and took out the books and papers I'd wanted, squirreling them away to a desk drawer which I locked. Having an unknown person enter the premises was the cause of some concern if a research project about secret societies was lying around, therefore, locking it away made me feel much safer. 

Not that the drawer stayed locked for long, as I resolved to go over the second book Frederick Denouement had lended to me. If you recall the book was titled *The Daily Punctilio: Relevant Articles, Volume 3* which **I had been told contained some interesting, if unreliable, accounts of well-know places burning to a crisp. I flipped to the index of the thing following the alphabet down until I picked out the word fire. There were pages of fires that I was going to have to read through to get to the relevant one, so I started from the first and skim read the titles of the articles. The forth article included the word cottage in the headline making it a bit more relevant than the others so far. I read on to the actual meat of the thing and realized that this article was actually about a small cottage in Oxfordshire used for a family holiday home had been destroyed. I went back to the index and continued onwards.

By the ninth article I was getting rather bored of all this turning to and fro and had finished my drink. Luckily enough, it turned out to be the account of the Wee Nooke fire I was looking for, and read as follows:

Cottage Fire! Devastation in Steeple Bumpleigh

Last night a cottage owned by Lord Worplesdon and rented by a family friend, was destroyed in a horrific fire. The fire was believed to have been lit during the afternoon and had the small house ablaze by the evening.

Lord Worplesdon, an eminent businessman, said of the fire 'It was a shame to have lost the property to misconduct'. Who or what this misconduct refers to is unknown at the present time, although some eyewitnesses do theorise potential arson. 

The cottage known as Wee Nooke, was a part of a collection of buildings owned and maintained by Lord Worplesdon. All of the furniture and belongings were lost in the Vastly Frightening Disaster. 

It is requested by the relevant organisations that anybody with any information come forward.

*Article written by Eleonora Poe, 25th April 1927.*

My reaction to the piece was lacking to say the least. From my own observations I knew that Edwin has caused the fire and he lacked the finesse for arson. From this I could see that VFD had initially suspected someone to had set the place alight. I couldn't quite understand why Frederick had thought this might help, as it just highlighted to me what I was already aware of. 

I looked back at the notebook I taken from the Hotel Denouement where I'd sprawled the clues I'd found thus far. I could narrow down the abbreviation from the 'b. was destroyed' idea to a book rather than the other options which I might have noticed being burnt in a fire. A book was a much more likely option. It was replaceable, as Jeeves had described, and could contain something deadly enough to threaten an unrelated party. 

I filled my glass and locked everything back in the drawer. 

At, I believe, six in the morning I awoke in a similar fashion to the time Jeeves first came into my life. That is, with an incessant ringing and not wanting to answer the door. I did answer, however, and was faced with a valet much shorter than the one I'd been used to. He told me his name was Salten and could prepare me some tea. 

There was a pang of guilt as I told him that tea wouldn't be necessary and he should just settle into his new abode. The man looked a bit confused at this but accepted it readily. Jeeves would have argued, and I resented that I thought of comparing the new to the old. After a short while of dressing myself and getting ready for the day proper, I poked my head into Salten's quarters to let him know I'd be out for a walk. I wanted to go for a walk to dust away some cobwebs from the brain. I felt much like any time I'd been faced with a new chapter in life - things were moving far too quickly and I wanted to remain in stasis, if that's the word I'm grasping for.

The air was crisp with autumnal spirit. The greens had turned into more prominent hues of yellow and a touch of orange, which was warming to look at although the weather couldn't be called as such. Clouds were heavy in the sky, weighed down - but airborne, like billows of smoke. 

My walk lasted longer than I thought as I mulled over the feeling of being back in my home but everything changing. It was as if all my furniture had been moved by a few inches and though I couldn't put a finger on why things weren't as I expected there was a distinct feeling that change had occurred. What I didn't know then, that this was only the re-starting of the same cycle I'd been experiencing my entire life.

I was half-way home when a voice emerged out of the city streets calling my name. The voice reached my husk of a self and I recognised it to be Florence Craye. The very same Florence Craye who suggested I talk to the Denouements in order to reconcile them and her Father, Lord Worpleston.

'Bertram!' She cried in her overly shrill tone.

'What-ho, Florence,' I replied without the usual vim.

'Are you quite alright? Looked like you've been locked inside for weeks the way you were staring at the trees.'

'Perfectly fine, thanks. What brings you to London?'

'Nothing unusual. Just here to meet my publisher. They want to replace my copy-editor,' she sighed, 'the old one was perfectly fine, so I can't say I understand the decision.'

'Dashed annoying.'

'Just a bit. But anyway, Bertie, more importantly, I can't believe you fired Jeeves! Did you fall in love with someone? I've been theorizing about it whilst you've been away.'

'No, no, nothing of the sort,' I quickly corrected her.

'Then why? Lady Worplesdon is sure to get you hitched if Jeeves has disappeared, she was saying so over dinner the other night. She wants you to marry a woman called Miss Caliban, I believe.'

'Caliban?'

'Yes. Bit of an odd girl. She's been staying with us for three days or so. Used to work at some carnival or other - in administration, of course, I think your Aunt draws the line at circus types.'

'I suppose she's from a good family?'

She nodded, 'They were quite rich in the 1800s, I've heard. Not so sure about their financial state now. One doesn't like to pry.'

'Clearly not.'

'All I'm saying is, Bertram, once your Aunt finds out you're in London she'll have you propose to the girl.'

'I wouldn't expect any less.'

'And you don't mind?'

'I do mind. You know as well as I that marriage to some random filly is something I've never desired. I'd much prefer to make the decision myself. It does, however, feel like it might blow over.'

'You think? I wouldn't be so sure. Your Aunt is really set on this, she'll try to push it through quickly.'

'Well, look on the bright side - you might get a nice dress out of it.'

She sighed in defeat, said goodbye and went off in a taxi. I was left on the street contemplating my next move. Bumpleigh Hall was raising the fires of hell again, and I was about to become trapped inside. My Aunt was dead set on attaching me to yet another, probably-lovely-when-you-get-to-know-her, of the feminine kind and it felt rather like the aforementioned trap. Being an invert, and an invert who had just ended the most significant relationship of my life, whilst I didn't want to disappoint the girl nor my family I was likely to. Not only on the front of producing heirs and what-not (I shudder to think), but also with my general down-beat attitude towards the thing. 

As I approached Berkley Mansions again, I ran a stressed hand through my hair - coiffing down the curls considerably until it resembled the flattened coat of a Pekinese. That is to say Bertram looked a bit like a fuzzy fur rug, and felt a lot like one too.

'Salten!' I said once in the flat. He appeared with an audible tread.

'Yes, sir?'

'I'm planning to visit Bumpleigh Hall tomorrow morning, is this agreeable to you?'

'Indubitably, sir. I shall pack. Will dinner be required?'

'No. I feel like eating out,' I lied. Salten seemed competent enough in his endeavours as a valet but somehow I felt eating his food would cross the line. I know that prepared food is the benefit of paying for a manservant - but I felt guilty towards Jeeves. How would he feel knowing I had replaced him? That someone else was sleeping in his quarters, despite the fact he hadn't slept in there in years?

This Salten cove nodded in response, his greying hair neatly tucked behind his ears moved slightly in a way which Jeeves' would never - unless I caught him pre-brilliantined. 

As soon as I came back, I left again. I sent a telegram to Aunt Agatha to let her know I'd be arriving on the morrow. I then continued on to Pinoli's, off Wardour Street, in a cab.

The meal, from what I remember, was unmemorable. The food was fine, the wine even finer, but it all turned to cinders in my mouth. Here everyone was being jolly and gay, but I looked like I'd just came from a funeral - and it was my own. Dashed odd thing being surrounded by people who seemed to be untroubled and untouched by the same woes I was experiencing. Whilst in Hotel Denouement my problems felt far away now they were following me in every corner of London. I chose Pinoli's as I had not dined there with Jeeves. It was rare we did eat together in the first place, but being in Soho made it further from the realm of our relationship. 

I exchanged some ready for the repast and toddled off to Berkley Square, slinking away from the crowds of excited diners.

Salten answered the door and let me in without so much as a "I hope you dinner was satisfactory". I missed that. I missed Jeeves. Then of course I remembered why I booted the man out and got upset. It was one of those circular thingummies. The more I remembered how Jeeves would act the more my emotions got mixed up. 

I went to bed agitated. Tossing and turning was the crux of the night. My sheets bunched in an awful fashion and my pillows felt far less fluffy than usual. The shut door for some reason seemed sinister, and the bed was far too empty.

Eventually I must've nodded off, for I was plagued with an intense nightmare that startled me awake sometime during the night. It was a hazy sort of dream, grey and intense with a distinct smell as if someone had lit a bonfire under me. In it I walked across the misty plains searching for whatever was giving off the God-awful scent. It was a building, that looked a lot like the Mayfair Library although separate from its real position in London, that had smoke billowing from it by an open window. I could hear someone shout for me from inside the blaze. I tried to run through the door but was met with some ridiculously toned arms that wouldn't let me go. There was a pause, then another shout. I broke free of the hold and rushed in. The building collapsed around me with embers falling from the ceiling. There was a deep sense of dread as I awoke.

Sweat soaked and extremely overwrought, I got up. If that's what I was going to see tonight I would rather be tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just randomly deciding to upload the rest all together since I feel like it. 
> 
> Title is 'Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave' from Song of Solomon 8:6.
> 
> The name Salten is from Felix Salten, who wrote Bambi, I was reading it at the time.
> 
> I also took time to pick a restaurant which was kinda fun ngl.


	11. We Have Been Sad Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrival at Bumpleigh Hall.

By morning, I was strung so high I could've been tuned and turned into a mandolin. The imminent struggle was upon me. I voiced my disapproval to Salten who had graciously made breakfast and tea. He didn't say very much at all. He looked sympathetic and nodded, unsure whether he should audibly agree. It was out of the ordinary and reminded me of the sense of dread I'd felt the night before. The caffeine went down quite nicely, however. I had three cups of the stuff to stop me flagging. The normal eggs and bacon sat like stones in the stomach, but I ignored the sensation - there was a Wooster at Agincourt, don't you know, he wouldn't shy away from conflict!

I asked Salten to drive down with the luggage whilst I took the train. That way I could arrive first and be valet-less when facing up to Aunt Agatha and what have you. Not just because I wanted Jeeves to feel guilty - I'm not that petty, or at least I wasn't trying to be. Letting Salten leave first also gave me the opportunity to pick up some reading material for the journey. I armed myself knowledge from _The House Without A Key_ (meeting minutes included), _The Daily Punctilio: Relevant Articles, Volume 3_ , _Volume of Fixed Definitions - VFD Anagrams_ all stored in my own notebook. I was lucky I'd written everything down or my arms would get quite the workout; no wonder those VFD folks have such beefy arms, lugging around books is hard going. The notebook fit in a trouser pocket and wasn't too much trouble. The books stayed in the drawer, though I did double-check that they were still there before leaving for the station.

I can't quite remember who said they always carried their journal for sensational reading material on the train, but I was a kindred spirit with them on that journey. I wasn't reading for the drama of it, as it remained as a few pages of research and was not an all too interesting sort of prose. But read I did. It was likely the missing object was a book that had burnt to nothingness in the confines of Wee Nooke, Lord Worplesdon was being "dealt with" for some reason, and it all related to some goings-on at either a Carnival or a Cave. I added the name Caliban with a question mark next to the Carnival. Even if I didn't want to marry her perhaps she might have some information. I planned to ignore the engagement portion of the visit and instead use my spying skills to make some connections. First, of course, I'd have to face up to Aunt Agatha.

I approached Bumpleigh Hall from the station in yet another taxi. Once there, I hopped out making sure the notebook was secure in my jacket pocket. 

The house was quite still though the staff were milling about as usual. I was given the boat room, which is not a room with boats in - but has a ship in the bottle ornament. Being given a room reminded me why I'd gone to Boko Fittleworth's house previously. That is, that Bertram was safer at arms length from the Hall rather than inside it. Nothing could be done, for I was expected to stay. 

The aged relation materialised soon after my arrival, speaking over my reply about how the journey had been to tell me she wanted to have tea. Tea with Aunt Agatha was always a boring affair; I'd sip the Earl Grey and eat a finger sandwich whilst hearing about my Aunt's son Thos., or I'd listen to her harp on about a woman who wanted to make something of me. 

'Bertram, I'm so glad you decided to visit as soon as you received my telegram. My husband thought you would be a few more days at least,' she said, sat with the dog McIntosh next to her.

'Well, you asked me here - so here I am.'

'This just proves to me how much Jeeves was having a bad influence on you. I have to say I was surprised that you let him go, however, I am quite happy with the result. The man makes an excellent butler.'

'He's a butler here?' I had heard that he was working at Steeple Bumpleigh from that conversation with Florence, but knowing the man had a preference for being a manservant over other domestic roles, the butler part of the deal surprised me. How would he be able to travel and go about his VFD business trapped in a country house, I couldn't tell you.

'Yes. Percy hired him almost as soon as he arrived back. He is doing surprisingly well at it, so long as one uses a firm hand. You were far too soft on him.'

'I say Aunt A., I did chide the man before now.'

'Stop talking drivel Bertie. Outside of that whole issue I invited you down for a reason.'

'Oh? And what would that be?'

'There is a girl, a young Miss Caliban who I would love to introduce to you. I met her and her mother at a dinner my husband was invited to just last week. When I set eyes on her, I knew at once that she would become your wife.'

'I'm not so sure, Auntie.'

'I'm certain. She is very keen to meet you, which you will at dinner this evening. You must be on your best behavior, Bertram.'

I nodded in response and we finished the tea.

As I left the Aunt known for her utter distain towards the Wooster person, stated with some air of finality 'I hope this is the absolute end of it all.'

—

Salten had arrived during the tea break and had begun unpacking when I went to my room to decompress. Instead of staying for too long I left my new man to the wardrobe organisation and set about on an ankle round the garden. Now that summer had passed the plants were more yellowed and rustic looking. The birds still chirped happily and wandered about in their bushes. 

I walked past an open window and heard a shrill voice exclaim 'Bertie!'

'Hello?' I said looking around the place. 

Florence opened up the conservatory door, enlightening me to her presence.

'What-ho Florence!'

'Bertram you should come in here,' she gestured widely.

'I say, old thing. What an earth is going on?'

'You know how I told you how the Caliban family might have an ulterior motive to the marriage - well they do, and I've figured it out.'

'That's all well and good, Florence, such a thing is no consequence to my Aunt Agatha sticking her nose in.'

'I don't agree. My Father will object.'

She rang for the domestic staff to notify Uncle Percy that I was here. I was getting quite hot under the collar in an anxious sweat sort of a way. 

In an instant Jeeves was before us, and the bally awful feeling continued. He had taken an unforeseen transformation in the past few weeks we'd been parted. His face was hollower now, and contained in his eyes was a deep sadness. It would have been unnoticeable to the casual observer, but to me I could see new lines and strains in his visage that seemed unfathomable when we'd been together. Immediately I regretted everything I had done. He looked broken - almost exactly the same expression as when he'd seen Spode hurt me. Dashed unpleasant, and extremely worrying.

'Would you tell my Father that Bertram is here now, Jeeves?'

'Certainly, your Ladyship. Will that be all?'

She said that it would be and Jeeves shimmered off, lacking his usual feudal spirit and seeming rather like it had all been squeezed out of him. The guilt was imminent, rising up in my lungs like someone inflating one of those interesting hot air balloon contraptions.

Lord Worplesdon joined us, with Jeeves joining him. Florence opened the conversation saying, 'Tell Bertie what you know about Miss Caliban, father.'

'Actually, Florence, I would prefer if you left.'

'What, why?'

'Darling, we won't be a moment. Besides, this is business.'

She walked off muttering something or other about me being a waste of space and not even having a job nor any interest in business; for the mutterings were quite extensive.

Uncle Percy sat down and I followed suite. Jeeves stood at his side, still with that bother-some expression. It felt a lot like an interrogation to be quite frank, with the old Lord staring me down. It reminded me almost exactly of the time I'd been up against the magistrate Bassett.

'Bertie,' there was a pause, 'Jeeves has told me what happened at Hotel Denouement.'

'Oh?' I said, trying seem uninterested in what had happened. I wanted to keep my pride at my decision-making for the moment even though I was remorseful. I didn't want to seem like I'd made a big fuss about something that didn't matter. It obviously did still matter that Jeeves had known about my parents shuffling off the mortal coil, and I wanted him to fret just a little over his conduct.

'I believe that you and Reginald should talk it out. I think you both are prone to stubborn behaviour and this is certainly a case for it. Before all that reconciliation, however, Florence mentioned Miss Caliban, and I feel the need to explain who she is.'

'That would be helpful since I am supposed to marry the woman, after all.'

'If you and Jeeves reconvene, I'm sure we can find a way to stop that. Viola Caliban's family set-up two VFD locations, the Island as discovered by Captain Widdershins and Chas Snicket, and the Caligari Carnival. Viola worked at the Caligari Carnival.'

'A-ha!' I shouted before I could stop it.

Caligari Carnival was one of my guesses for the clue "C. C. was going ahead with something", if you would recall. 

'"A-ha!", what?' My uncle asked.

I shook my head in response.

'Anyway, it would seem she is looking to get some more money for the place as she's willing to marry you.'

'You mean she's using me?'

'Naturally. Most people are.'

There was one person that certainly hadn't used me. Not in all the six years I had known him. I sighed, all this mention of marriage didn't really agree with the Wooster constitution. 

'Now, I'm going to leave you boys to it - try to get this damn thing sorted, I've had a headache for the past month.'

Uncle Percy removed himself from the glass room, that was beginning to feel a bit like a green house, and left us to it. Without him there my distractions from Jeeves were very limited and I rather wanted to find an out. I swallowed harshly, trying to get the balloon lungs situation under control. Nothing I did seemed to put them once again to the task of breathing normally and I just had to deal with the shakiness. 

A gentle all-too-familiar cough emerged from somewhere above where my eyes were focused.

'May I sit down, sir?' 

'No!' I said panicking when my eyes reached his. 'No, wait. I mean yes, yes, of course you can.'

He sat down. We were further apart than we would have been if we were at Berkley Mansions, but it somehow felt as if we were in completely different continents.

'I don't quite know how to begin,' he said after a moment.

'The ball is very much in your court. You know how I feel about the matter.'

He sat rubbing his hands together until he was composed again, those poor lines on his forehead were looking even more rugged by now.

'It started, as most things tend to, with a mistake. I had no idea you had been scouted as a child, nor how your parents perished, before we came to our understanding. I too, thought that it was a coincidence that like me you had little family to speak of. When I did discover the truth, three years ago, I decided not to tell you.'

'And you had no right to do so.'

He ran an agitated hand across his seat, 'No, I didn't. Please, however, let me finish.

'The reason for my deception was simple, I did not - nay, could not - lose you. A selfish decision, but one I decided was too perilous not to take. I thought that if you knew VFD had tried, and failed, to enrol you into their ranks you would push yourself to be a larger part of their schemes. I did not want you to enlist yourself into danger. I became unable to let you into the organisation knowing the risks involved. The lie, therefore, grew, and continued, until you ended up becoming more connected to volunteers than I had ever imagined possible. From the time the telegram arrived, up until the present moment, I have lived in constant fear that something would happen to you, that you would be trapped in a plot that would end with your untimely death.'

It was a noble reason, and brought about some of my deeper emotions, 'How do you imagine I feel when I see you doing just the same?'

The stuffed taxidermy expression arrived at its full capacity, 'I don't quite understand what you mean, sir.'

'Do you not think I fear for your life just the same? In shielding me like this you denied me my family history. Reggie,' He winced at his name. 'I can understand why you did it - but you must know I care for you exactly the same. We have to protect each other, and that means sticking with it even if one of us makes a terrible decision. Even if one of us has the sort of job that is so shadowy they could be killed for some useless piece of information, useless at least in regard to their own life.'

'Are you saying you forgive me?' He asked, a bit of light entering his eyes when I mentioned caring for him.

'Not completely, Reg.'

He tightened up like a spring, 'I'm sorry. It was inexcusable. I can't condone my actions. If you'd still be willing, I would like to help you regarding the Caliban situation.'

'You're not hearing me. I'll work on forgiving you so long as you work on your overprotectiveness. I think that's a fair trade, what?' I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. If Jeeves told me to stuff it now I wouldn't know where to turn. My options were pretty limited when it came to the tender pash. I regretted making my man hurt but that didn't excuse him hurting me. There was a wound in our relationship and I wanted to be the first to acknowledge that I wouldn't mind trying to patch it up. Reg was worth it. If he wanted the best for me like he claimed, then he would know that I could survive without him, but thriving was a completely different story. Jeeves made me think the world was better, and that I could have a part in making it so. VFD complicated our feelings, made us consider ourselves in a context so much wider than just who we were to one another. The danger of it all, coupled with the idea that isolation might serve better if one of us were to die just to avoid the pain, was precisely why we needed one another. There needed to be something to look forward to, something to enjoy. Not everything needed to be part of larger, more important, plan. I wanted Jeeves to have that.

He looked at me in complete awe, his eyes glowing like shining stones in a rock-pool. The effect this had on me was a fission - the Wooster who fired his valet in anger was gone. All that was left in me was a lightness of heart and a cleared mind. He believed it, I could tell then, that some things were just worth the risk.

Jeeves got up from his chair, quickly scanned the area, and stooped to grasp my hand. A jolt went straight up my spine, tingling the area he was holding and popping those damn lung balloons that had been floating about along with it. A heavy breath escaped from them. It really was the absolute top after all the time we'd spent apart. 

'I promise, Bertram, I will do my complete best to never, ever, shield you from the worst again. As you say, we are in this together, through sunshine and shade.'

*(**NTS:** From the poem 'We Have Been Friends Together' by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton, which in my mind Jeeves has definitely read).*

There was from this conversation, a whole lot more to talk about. With Jeeves working for Uncle Percy I would have to wait awhile before things could get back to complete normality. I was sure my uncle would release Jeeves from his employ when Miss Caliban had been dealt with, being the friendly sort of cove he is, but we still had to pretend to have nothing to do with each other whilst lodging at Bumpleigh Hall. I also had to cope with Salten being about the place. He was less attentive than Jeeves ever had been, but I was still wary. If he got a whiff of the untoward about Jeeves and I, I doubted hell would break loose but I would rather have avoided it. Besides the logistics of the whole thing I was just straight-forwardly happy. Knowing that Jeeves and I could reach the comfort we found in each other once again, warmed the cockles of the Wooster heart. We could find contentment and safety from the fires of the world once more.

—

Dinner that evening was rather fraught. Between Jeeves butlering, the aged relation's eagle eye, our newly reconciled relationship was under a lot of pressure. There was not only this of course, but also the additional leech known as Viola Caliban. She was stuck to the corpus from the pre-dinner cocktails onwards, and I was feeling quite lightheaded from it. She would stroke up my arms and whisper stupid things in my ears when people had stopped looking towards us. I was incredibly uncomfortable. Luckily, Jeeves noticed this and topped up my glass far more than necessary, causing me to down it quicker than I usually would have. 

'Bertram! You're drinking far too much. Jeeves, I would suggest you stop filling his glass.'

'Of course, madam.'

That plan went out the window. The conversation was stuck to why I'd spent weeks in a hotel and what I was doing there. The best excuse I could conjure up was that I was visiting a friend of mine; which whilst not strictly untrue still felt a bit convoluted. Uncle Percy helped me out.

'I didn't know you were friends with the Denouements, Bertie,' he said almost winking.

'Oh, rather. Old pals, we are. They invited me for a good catch-up.'

'You know the Denouements, Bertram? That does surprise me,' Aunt Agatha said sounding as respectful as I've ever heard her.

Viola perked up then, 'The Denouements? My father knew them well.'

We exchanged several stories about Freddie Denouement and all agreed that he was a lovely fellow whose knowledge of where to travel was second to none. 

Through chat of various members of VFD and Edwin whining about some of the dishes, we'd soon reached dessert. It was a fancy looking upside down cake, for which I was served a nice large slice of, much to Edwin's disapproval.

'How is that fair! Look at Bertie's slice compared to mine.'

'If you haven't noticed Edwin, I am quite a bit older than you,' I said.

'What does that matter! I'm growing still.'

'Bertram, you mustn't tease him. You can have another slice if you wish,' my Aunt reasoned. 

Edwin kicked me under the table, and I let out a manly yelp.

Viola looked over at me, concern bringing her eyes to tears, 'My dearest - are you quite alright?'

The idea of being her dearest made me come over quite faint so I just nodded and tried to eat fast to get away from the table. Her paws attempted to grasp me underneath the table, making me realise her persistence. There really was no time to waste, I needed to get unstuck from the female leech as soon as possible. With Jeeves and Uncle Percy in my corner, we were unlikely to fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The diary for sensational reading bit is borrowed from Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest.
> 
> Also, fun fact hot air balloons were a bit of an attraction in-between the Wars.


	12. Penultimate Panic

The nights sleep was better than it had been for quite some time. Despite the impending nuptials in accordances with my Aunt's wishes, I felt radiant. Jeeves was back in my life and that put quite the bounce in the Wooster step. Not that I needed to be bouncing in bed, but you get the idea. This Wooster was boomps-a-daisy with knobs on.

I suppose in some sense I figured now that I had Jeeves nothing could keep me tied to Viola. She seemed nice enough, had a lovely profile that my friend Bingo pre-marriage would have lusted over, but was too needy for my liking. I wasn't the kind of man who didn't mind helping out his friends, but I hardly knew the girl - and she was very intent on getting to know me far too well, far too quickly. If Jeeves and Uncle Percy felt iffy about her, who was I to doubt their better judgement? Especially when it came to those blighters who were somehow connected to VFD. They had knowledge that far surpassed my own about all the ins and outs of family dramas and issues that might contribute to create a dastardly kind of child. I conceded to that knowledge completely.

It had been decided after dinner, the night previous, that Uncle Percy, Jeeves and I would meet in a more private section of the house to talk about VFD. I wanted to go through everything I'd observed in Hotel Denouement, and get some feedback on it all. I was hoping being an aged member Uncle Percy would know more than even Jeeves about the organisation. It would also allow us to escape Viola Caliban's gaze. The thing is, she attached herself to me in a way that was difficult to avoid. A bit like a stubborn barnacle. 

After I'd dressed and bathed that morning the enthused Caliban followed me about like a lost puppy. She asked me on a morning stroll which I was too lily-livered to deny her.

'Mr. Wooster, I'm so glad your Aunt visited recently. I don't know if she told you but my father has been looking for a successor to our carnival.'

'She might have mentioned it.'

'You are perfect for the role,' she seized my hand with more strength than I expected from her soothing voice. It was the kind of voice that reminded me of when Stephanie Byng was trying to extract some favour or other from me. 

'You think so?'

'Of course. Not only do you seem distinctive, but you also have a certain way you speak to people that puts them at ease. That's very important.'

'So you don't intend to marry me?' I asked getting confused and frustrated.

'How else do you think you would become the successor of the Carnival?'

'It sounded like you were offering it to me.'

Her face was agog. If I was less suspicious of her to begin with, I would have realised something was afoot at that very moment. She regarded me much as one would regard an insect that had hidden itself in the wardrobe; that is to say, with a snooty expression suggesting I be tossed out into the cold. 

'Of course not you imbecile! I thought your Aunt would have at least told you this much. She said you were longing to get married, and especially to a girl with a similar approach to life as me.'

I quivered at the mention of an "approach to life", one was all to aware of the kinds of lives that my Aunt Agatha favoured. They were the sober, disapproving sorts - that had very little acceptance for fun to be had. As a proud _preux chevalier,_ I could hardly just tell the girl I doubted her lifestyle would suit mine so I opted for the age-old method of absolute ignorance, which had served me so well in the past.

'I can't remember that conversation. Of course, you seem lovely, and succeeding a carnival sounds dashed interesting and all, it's just-'

'No need to be so humble, Bertie, may I call you that?' she smiled, looking not unlike of of those fish with far too many teeth to be harmless. 

Wriggling out of this was looking to be harder than I'd expected, which I already knew would be difficult. The intensity of her stare and what kind of incantations my Aunt had performed to set the engagement up looked to be akin to imprisonment. 

Across the garden came my deus ex machine something or other. It was Jeeves, smooth as ever. He approached me and Viola. He couldn't have looked more prickly if he'd been turned into a porcupine.

'Telephone call you, Miss Caliban,' he enlightened us.

I praised the caller and wished it would be a long conversation.

Once she'd disappeared, and Jeeves along with her, I went back in the house to find Uncle Percy. I assumed he would be in his study working on something or other. When I knocked on the door a booming voice from within shouted out, 'One moment!'

I waited, and the door opened to Uncle Percy looking tired and worn. I'd never seen my Uncle like this, it was quite a shock to the system I can tell you. 

'Ah! Bertie. Just the man. Let me call Jeeves and we can get started.'

I sat down whilst Jeeves was procured from wherever he had been. Uncle Percy had set up a table and seats for all three off us to have a jolly good discussion, a bit like those Knights at the round whatsit. 

With everyone accounted for I pulled out my notebook and set it down. 

'Since I fired you, Jeeves, I've been trying to figure out what's been happening with that dastardly telegram as a way of getting back at you and learning about VFD. Obviously now the air has cleared, I thought we could collaborate. It works as a test to you being overprotective,' I kicked off.

'The three of us should definitely be able to get to the bottom of this,' Uncle Percy agreed.

'Is that reasonable, Reginald?' I asked, for Jeeves looked like he'd just swallowed something furry. 

He got it down and said, 'Of course.'

Me and Uncle Percy shared a testy look. 

'If you don't want to be apart of this you can leave,' said my uncle.

'I don't wish to. It just goes against what I'm accustomed to. I'll do my upmost to ignore it.'

That satisfied us both for the moment.

'Right, where was I? Oh, I know. So I sort of worked out that the object was some kind of a book and I get the feeling it was connected to Caligari Carnival, but Chas didn't think so.'

Uncle Percy was unimpressed. 'But the book is connected to Caligari Carnival, it was a manual for an attraction. By Chas you mean Charles Snicket?'

'The one and the same.'

'It's like I was telling you a few weeks ago, Jeeves. That Snicket is up to something. He’s been making you run round in circles.’

‘I’ll say. I’ve been in a perpetual state of confusion for weeks - not that that’s anything new, as some would say.’

‘Perhaps Mr. Snicket was trying to stop Bertie’s involvement in VFD?’ Jeeves suggested.

‘Possibly. He was, however, rather keen on getting me over to see you, Uncle Percy. Seems more likely he wanted me in VFD.’

We all pondered for a while, properly furrowing our brows and the suchlike.

Then I remembered something in a kind of bolt from the blue. ‘Othello!’ I shouted to two stunned faces.

‘What are you talking about Bertie?’

‘Othello! Charles mentioned it to me when I last saw him at the hotel. He talked about how that fellow tells the other his wife is committing adultery when she’s not.’

‘Iago tells Othello that he has seen his wife be unfaithful.’

‘Yes Jeeves, exactly that! I think Charles is doing the same thing. Pretending that something matters when it clearly doesn’t for a different type of gain.’

‘I’m not following you,’ my Uncle admitted.

‘I mean that Chas has put our, or rather my, directions towards this object and is trying to keep us busy with it, when really he wants something else.’

Jeeves’ eyes brightened, ‘Misdirection. It could make sense. Mr. Snicket has been adamant that Lord Worplesdon continues in VFD despite his wish to retire. He could have enlisted Bertie to continue the work in his stead.’

‘Do you think then, that he sent that original telegram?’ I asked getting so excited I almost lifted out of my seat.

‘It’s certainly a possibility,’ Jeeves almost beamed back at me.

‘Before you both get carried away, how can we be certain that Charles is fixated on getting me and you to stay in the organisation?’

‘Whenever I spoke to him at Hotel Denouement we talked about a clue I’d found which said “L. W. is being dealt with” which I found in the VFD meeting minutes. He got very red-faced and said that had nothing to do with what I was researching. The first time I met him, I believe, he also mentioned VFD getting smaller. It’s just a theory, but I can see Charles trying to make you stay just to keep numbers up, maybe that’s what was meant by “dealt with”. It would make far more sense than you believing him to have set the Wee Nooke fire, we all know that was Edwin.’

‘Jeeves, were you at that meeting?’

‘I was, your Lordship. There was some concern about dwindling numbers of volunteers a few months ago. Some members were not enthused about your decision to leave, I of course advocated your retirement.’

'As you should. Conceivably there is some merit in the idea, it might be worth making a few inquiries with some other members.'

'I can wire Frederick Denouement, if you like. We became quite chummy whilst I stayed at his,' Jeeves looked over at me with some surprise, 'I know for a fact he doesn't get on all too well with Charles at the minute.'

'Well then, why not? I'll ask some of the older volunteers I know as well if he's been sniffing around them,' Uncle Percy suggested.

'I think I'll continue in a similar fashion,' Jeeves said firmly, 'I'll attend any meetings and indicate the situation to anyone else I see fit. For now I think it's important none of this gets back to Mr Snicket until we have sufficient evidence.'

We all agreed on that. It would be an absolute flop if our theories were proven false and we were too busy sentencing the man to notice. I was hopeful, however, that we had got him - and just before I ended up killing Jeeves and then myself in true Shakespearian tradition. Not that I would ever dare. I'm sure Jeeves' family and the rest of VFD would somehow re-animate me just to have justice served.

Alongside this discussion I was also keen to get to the bottom of the potential Caliban engagement. I mentioned this to the congregation, to bring us back to the more overtly pressing issue.

Jeeves came up with the goods first, ‘The attraction at Caligari Carnival, if I remember rightly was the Fortune Teller’s Tent, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy said.

‘The book, I presume, was about the role of Madame Lulu. A role which is a post held by rotating volunteers. Madame Lulu acts as a spiritual guide for visitors when really the act involves a few different mirrors, a glass ball, and a well curated archival library.’ 

He said most of that for my benefit, to keep me in the loop of the carnival business.

‘I have to ask Reginald, have you any reason for bringing this up?’ Uncle Percy questioned. He seemed to doubt the line of enquiry, and I did along with him. What this had to do with my impending nuptials I had no clue.

‘My idea is that we could, in a way, frame Miss Caliban as Madame Lulu. I’m unsure whether she has taken the role but it could prove reason for Lady Worplesdon to look towards her unfavourably.’

‘And how would we do that?’

‘I thought you might be able to bring it up to Lady Worplesdon, your Lordship. She knows about your involvement in VFD, does she not?’

Uncle Percy bristled a bit, ‘Actually, not really. I’ve not told her much, she’s only witnessed my retirement. She’s definitely aware of friends of mine being volunteers.’

‘That’s odd,’ I said out loud, ‘I can’t manage to keep anything quiet from Aunt Agatha. She manages to find almost everything out, with one important exception.’

'I wouldn't like to imagine if she did, sir.' A shiver ran through him, 'However, to get back to the point at hand, I would suggest you mention that Miss Caliban had an unconventional role at the carnival.’

‘Jeeves I must say, you're a marvel. Florence only mentioned to me the other day that Aunt Agatha would not consent to me marrying circus types. It’s inspired, truly.’

I could not praise him enough. Being engaged is one of the most unpleasant experiences in a confirmed bachelor's life. Though I tried to be *preux* towards the women foisting themselves upon me, being tethered towards Jeeves made things all that more complicated.

'I'll do my best then, I suppose. If that doesn't hold my wife off though, have you got anything else planned?'

'I could not say, your lordship.'

When my paragon said this there was a certain rummy tone to his voice that I took to mean he had several cards up the proverbial sleeve. It seemed that much like McIntosh with a tasty treat he would get the young master out the engagement with all the power he had. Despite being a way of him manifesting that protective spirit in a slightly healthier way than wrapping the corpus in cotton-wool, it was at least a version of that which I could approve of. It's not like he was stopping me from doing anything I wanted to do. 

The meeting adjourned, and we went our separate ways. Uncle Percy and I took to the dining room to eat from the nosebag, whereas Jeeves had gone below stairs to buttle. I pulled up my socks ready to face Aunt Agatha and Viola.

Besides the kicks I received from Edwin, the overly excited touches from Viola and Uncle Percy talking extensively about his business ventures lunch passed without note. It was surprising really, my Aunt seemed to be fully occupied with her meal, or just satisfied that I seemed to be going along with the engagement thus far. She didn't even seem bothered that, despite it all, I was still around Jeeves. How calm she was was striking. Her usual snipes were nowhere to be found, and the Wooster corpus came away from the table mostly unscathed. It made me think that when things did begin to crumble with the Caliban girl I might want to escape to an incredibly remote Island for a sojourn. 

After lunch was an entirely different affair. The calmness was evident in everyone but myself, who was cowering a little. Aunt A. pulled me to one side with Viola to talk about our marriage. We discussed when the wedding would be, who would be attending (with lots of the Drones being vetoed), flowers, dresses and all the rest of it. Why such an event needs so much thought is beyond me. Put on the nice togs, say I do and have a veritable feast was almost like dressing for dinner - though one didn’t tend to say vows, well unless it was a family that liked to pray before a meal, but I digress. I don’t think I picture my own wedding well, my only prospect being Jeeves, which would make the whole thing impossible - as much as it would be nice to see him in a morning suit.

My brain was a-whirl with all these minuscule decisions being made about napkins and the like that I didn’t notice a question was being directed at me.

'Bertram! You are listening aren't you?'

'Oh, rather, just thinking about this and that.'

'We were just wondering if you had a best man in mind?'

'I suppose Kipper? Failing that Bingo is the first person who springs to mind,' I mused. Kipper, or Reginald Herring, is one of my oldest and dearest friends for those who are unaware. We attended Malvern House Preparatory School together and became close under the wrath of Reverend Aubrey Upjohn. Bingo, or Richard, Little also attended the school. Out of Drones who biffed off to Bramley-on-Sea for an education, I would consider them the absolute closest to me.

'I would rather you didn't have friends with such ridiculous names.'

I explained to the Aunt who these names depicted, and she consented to Bingo as the best man - since he was already married. She really seemed to have something against Kipper being called Kipper. It mattered very little to me whom she consented of as being part of the wedding party, as it was so unlikely to happen. The whole thing did start to seem a bit more possible, however. With Drones getting married to the left and right of me, the idea that one day I might have to wear the old sponge-bag trousers to sate society's expectations was a damn nightmare. I would never admit it to Jeeves, of course, but being the sort of fellow who goes with the flow made me scared to defy what was thrown at me. Marriage was definitely the end of what I would endure, so I was bound to hold it off until the absolute bitterest end. The Aunt could beg, threaten me and what have you, and I would do my best to wriggle out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist a Penultimate Peril-ish title.


	13. A Divided Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last official chapter - still an epilogue to go!

In between the last section and this one, Jeeves, Uncle Percy and I enquired about Charles Snicket with our various means. My telegram to Frederick had been quite cryptic, incase someone else were to read it. The crux of the thing was simply asking if he had noticed anything that Snicket was trying to do. I received a reply to meet him between our present locations, which suited me fine as Hotel Denouement was quite out of the way. A trip back to London would be required. It was a tough time to leave Steeple Bumpleigh with the marriage still very much on the horizon, but I assured Aunt Agatha I would be gone just for the day. The prospective wife was a little unhappy about it, as she was annoyed I hadn't told her until just before. Not that it mattered really, I would be out of her clutches before you could say "I didn't realise this was a sad occasion,", though it wouldn't be a sad occasion if I was. Salten, my soon to be unemployed (at least from my service) manservant, stayed at the hall and helped out the staff there. As I wasn't going to be needing him whilst in London it seemed the normal sort of thing to do. Besides, I didn't much like being reminded that I hired him in the first place.

Frederick was waiting for me near the Drones and we ankled off to my flat from there to get away from potential eavesdroppers and disruptions. Without a helping hand about the place I opted to pouring the drinks myself, for which Frederick was quite thankful. He mentioned being a bit drained from some of the hotel guests and definitely looked like he could use a stiff glass.

I swilled my cocktail about a bit before broaching the topic of Charles Snicket, readying myself for a goodish portion of explaining.

'Freddie, my dear fellow-'

'Christ, get on with it will you. I still have the trip back,' he bristled, still a little irritated despite the excellently mixed drink

'Yes, of course. Well, it's like this.'

I'll allow the reader's some few words to read by not re-explaining the present jam with Charles Snicket being a bit suspicious.

'It could be true. I can't say for certain he's recruiting people unconventionally, but his name has come up a lot more recently.'

'How do you mean?'

'Firstly, he keeps talking to you and now it seems he's been contacting some of my family members. My eldest, who has no interest in VFD, met Charles for lunch last week. I only found out when I had to pay another one of my staff members for covering a shift of his.'

'That's rummy.'

'Indeed,' he took another sip of his drink and composed himself again. 'It hardly matters to me what he's doing. VFD is lacking fresh faces, I don't see why he shouldn't.'

'You don't think it's wrong to send a threatening telegram? Jeeves and I were scared for our lives.'

'I think it depends on the context. Besides, you two are a bit noisy.'

'Excuse me?'

'Releasing all those memoirs is not well-liked by some volunteers. They are fine with academic texts and things of that ilk but it's a bit unheard of to publicise such things as recollections. Jeeves has taken a lot of slack for it over the years, but he was adamant his editing would be enough. Lots of members did not agree.'

'Including Charles Snicket, I suppose.'

'He wasn't enthused.'

I sat back in my chair, resting the old cheekbones in my hands. Charles had plenty of motivation to send the telegram. If he wanted Bertram Wooster in the old VFD consommé, all he had to do was know Jeeves would be pipped that I would receive a threat. It also showed me and Jeeves that we ought to be a lot more careful at what information we spread out into the world. That is, if the telegram had been written by Chas - which I could tell was a serious possibility.

I learnt later that during this friendly visit with Freddie, Uncle Percy had managed to let it slip to my Aunt that Viola Caliban might not quite fit with the Wooster image. My uncle was the real tabasco in so far as he made an extremely convincing argument to my Aunt A. Being the kind of woman that would not be out of place in devil worshipping circles, it seemed inconceivable that a mild-mannered man like my Uncle Percy would be able to persuade her of anything. Jeeves oversaw the whole thing, and when I was back at Steeple Bumpleigh made a beeline to let me in on the debates outcome.

He called out to me as I was legging it up the stairs to change into some dinner-appropriate togs. 

'Sir,' he said, 'if you'd permit me a moment, I'd like to speak with you.'

'Of course. Won't be a tick, just need to put on something a bit more suitable.'

With a black bowtie donning the Wooster figure once again, I met Jeeves in Uncle Percy's study as he'd recommended. Uncle Percy was absent, but Jeeves didn't seem to look out of place like he would have if we had been intruding.

'Your engagement looks to be at an end.'

I goggled at him, a slow smile making itself known across my map.

'Her Ladyship shouted for quite some time after it was revealed to her that Miss Caliban dealt in fortune telling.'

'She believed it then?'

'So I observed.'

'Well there you are Jeeves! I'm off the hook.'

'Indeed, sir,' he said with that absolute thingness that could only be described as complete satisfaction.

'I have some rather topping news as well, Jeeves,' I revealed that my conversation to Freddie opened up some more reasoning for Charles' potential faked telegram.

'Mr. Snicket, I have to say, sir, would be a likely candidate for such a deception. With what you have heard, and the information Lord Worplesdon and I have acquired, I believe we shall be prepared for a meeting with him soon enough.'

'You've both dug up some dirt on him, you mean?'

I hoped so. It would really tighten our case. 

'Exactly, sir. I believe it would be best if we continue this conversation after dinner as the gong is about to ring.'

Low and behold, the gong made its racket and Jeeves joined the serving ranks whilst I held back to make sure Aunt Agatha wouldn't see us together. It would be rotten for her to figure out Jeeves had come up with the wheeze to get me furthest away from the alter. 

When enough time had passed I waltzed into the arena known as the dining room. I missed the cocktails talking to Jeeves and received quite the disgusted look from my Aunt for being mildly late. I mean to say, I was in dead-heat with the soup - not something to get in a twist about.

Slightly-larger-than-a-Violin Caliban was nowhere in the vicinity. I assumed she had been kicked out by Aunt Agatha's pointed toe. I assumed it was pointy, or clawed, perhaps. I was hopefully never going to find out.

A dark energy came from my aged relation's spot at the table, almost as if she was chanting silent incantations and dabbling in runes. Uncle Percy looked like he was just about keeping her from bursting into flames of complete anger by talking mindlessly about how the gardener wanted to add some wintery plants. My own food was going down a treat, having been relieved of an awful lot of stress. Things were still a bit complicated with that Snicket cove, but present doom was further away than it had been for quite some time. 

Jeeves caught my eye on occasion throughout the meal, and it was bally difficult not to talk to him and include him the proceedings like I might have done were we home. 

With Aunt A. riled up for an attack at Bertram, and possibly Jeeves, I thought one of us should probably escape sharpish. Before I left, however, Jeeves, Uncle Percy and I congregated in my rooms whilst Salten packed to discuss some more about what I'd began dubbing "Operation Confrontation" in my head. It wasn't liable to catch on of course, what with the other people involved in it being a bit more serious than me.

'I suggest we make our move on Thursday,' Uncle Percy suggested. It was currently Tuesday evening, giving us a few days to gather our collective evidence. 

'Will you be coming up to London on Thursday then?' I asked, making sure we were on the same page.

'Most likely. You'll set up to meet Charles in your flat or something, I assume.'

I nodded, 'It ought to come from me, I think. He'd be very concerned if it came from you.'

Jeeves chimed in whilst watching Salten folding some of my trousers in a hawk-like manner, 'I would agree with that assessment, sir. We do not want Mr. Snicket to think that anything has happened since you're conversation at the hotel - that way we might be able to surprise him.'

'I concur. It might be an idea if I get my current man, Salten, to open the door and introduce you both as guests.'

Uncle Percy laughed, 'I'm looking forward to seeing Charles' face when he sees Jeeves and I sat in your living room.'

Jeeves paused from his observation looking at us both in bewilderment, 'As enjoyable as that would be, I feel it would be overstepping a boundary.'

'How would it, Jeeves? Charles knows. He's trustworthy in that sense, at least. Besides I can hardly introduce you as my valet when Salten is in my employ.'

'I take your point, sir. I'll concede on this occasion.'

'Thank you, Jeeves. Well I suppose that's settled! I'll see you both early in the ack emma on Thursday.'

—

I informed Salten when I drove us back that he ought to seek employment elsewhere. He wasn't as surprised as I thought he might be, asking me for a reference before the week was out. I consented to the task, he was a good valet and far from some of the lesser ones I'd been subjected to in the past. Him taking my overly-affectionate attachment to Jeeves in his stride was really the icing on the fairy cake and I warmed to him. I felt that I misjudged him due to the cloud of emotions I was feeling towards Jeeves. He reminded me too much of the person I was missing and he didn't deserve it. He was definitely a good sort.

Going home without Jeeves, however, was a bit of a punch in the stomach, to be honest. Our relationship was still a bit fragile after all that had happened. I knew, however, if we could get through those weeks of uncertainty we could get through a few days without being in each other's company. 

I spent my time leading up to our confrontation the same as I usually would have done pre-telegram; that is, I muddled about playing piano, reading, chatting to friends on the phone, going to dinner at the club and avoiding my Aunt's disappointment at the engagement falling through. I wasn't sure she would ever be entirely off my back. There was little that could be done about that, however, so I ceased musing on the topic and threw myself into the usual.

The note I dropped to Chas was along the lines of what I'd sent to him previously. I claimed I wanted him to discuss some things with me that had come up in my research, and I also had something to tell him about my uncle. If the former didn't get his attention, the latter would. I was proven right a few hours later when his message came through saying Thursday lunch would be the perfect time to meet. 

The caterpillars in my stomach began cocooning with knowledge of what was to come. Comforting myself with the fact it probably wouldn't last long and I had two shining examples of the human species alongside me, made me look towards the thing with more optimism. That's not to say I didn't become a jellified blob before bed thinking about how Snicket might react to our allegations. As I'm sure I've mentioned in previous chapters, his arms weren't to be trifled with.

When the sun made it's self known above the horizon that was all it took for me to launch out of bed and into the wet and wobbly of the bath. Been as Salten hadn't awoken me it was a little colder than my usual bath, not that it mattered as I didn't linger too long. Salten arrived with the breakfast tray when I had already dried off and was dressing.

Jeeves and Uncle Percy came along just after the dishes had been put away. Uncle Percy wore his usual sort-of thing, and Jeeves caught me off guard in a warm grey tweed suit that completely contrasted the coldness of his valet attire. 

'Lord Worplesdon insisted I wore something "less stuffy".'

'I see,' I smiled. Jeeves looked comfortable but slightly irritated. He probably had a long debate with Uncle Percy on the matter, still not lacking in his feudal spirit. With Uncle Percy winning the argument, I couldn't help thinking my man had softened a bit.

We sat down together and exchanged pleasantries about the journey and all that pre-amble. Neither of them seemed nervous in the slightest which curbed my own fears significantly. 

'What's our angle?' I asked, wanting to know how to get the ball rolling when Charles arrived.

'First we invite him in with tea, settle him down and then bring up the telegram,' Uncle Percy said looking at me as if my brain cells had gone off to have some kind of party. I dashed well wished they had, for it would no doubt be more exciting than the forthcoming.

'I understand all that. What I meant was how do we approach the telegram. Do we bring up our theories first or launch straight up into the proof?'

'As you put it, sir, theories first might make the most sense. We can't prove anything if we have no thesis which to prove.' Jeeves' eyebrows raised just a bit, a look which I took to mean he thought I was being overly panicky. He had a point.

The doorbell rang just as I thought I had settled and my spine straightened with the shock of it. Charles was early, as was typical of these volunteer fellows.

Salten opened the door and there stood the now foreboding figure of Mr. Charles Snicket. His arrival was announced, hat took and all that usual stuff, as I cowered in the corner of my own flat. Thank goodness Jeeves and Uncle Percy were there to step up to the proverbial plate or my own reaction would have been not dissimilar to what my Aunt Agatha would refer to as just utter drivel. 

The surprise aspect of the set-up had worked well. Charles Snicket positively dripped with it, his map dampening and turning a bit greyish like an uncooked shrimp. His visage muddled, walking in the room with more trepidation than he would have just being greeted by me alone. 

Uncle Percy and Jeeves both got up from their positions to greet the man, and Snicket looked to me as if he was about to bolt through the door and exit Berkley Mansions with all the grace of an antelope. He did not do that presently, likely saving it up, and resided himself to the cocktails Salten had been mixing. 

'I say, Charles Snicket. Haven't seen you in quite some time. How's the wife?' Uncle Percy put on the genial spirit amiably.

'She's perfectly well,' Snicket looked over at me with an unspoken question on his tongue. Having thought he was going to meet me alone to talk about Uncle Percy, one would be sure that being faced with the very fellow he had instructed someone to keep tabs on would cause the man to blanch. Which he did, with brass knobs on. He said primly, 'I would be interested to know, Bertie, why you've assembled us all here?'

My tongue coated itself in wool. 'Chas, the thing is, you see, well, our position is this-'

'What Mr. Wooster is trying to say is that we believe you sent that threatening telegram in order to recruit him and make sure Lord Worplesdon would not retire.'

'Thank you, Jeeves,' I said, thankful he'd managed to get the accusation clearly out in the open.

'And what makes you think that?' He side-eyed Jeeves and sat in the armchair forlornly. It was rife with drama that would not be out of place in a Rosie M. Banks novel.

Uncle Percy was first to the post with an answer. 'We have reason to believe you have been worried about the state of VFD and the lacking recruitment.'

'Haven't we all? That's hardly enough to put me on trial.'

'It's not just that, Charlie,' I puffed out my chest ready to deal the damaging blow. 'You purposefully led me away from why on earth you were observing my Uncle. I know you said it was all to do with him thinking you set the Wee Nooke fire, but we all know who did that. You seemed to give me almost none of the information I wanted. Besides, I've talked to Frederick and he seems to think you've been trying to get his relations to participate alongside. This leads us to the conclusion that you started this whole business for a bit of underhanded recruitment.’ 

He looked at me not dissimilar to the time I'd first met him, like I was a speck of dirt on a glass window.

'I wouldn't take you as the sort of person to bring up such trivialities, Bertie. If your memory serves, which I'm beginning to doubt, you wanted to be involved in VFD - what was it you said exactly - you wanted to protect Jeeves for once?'

Jeeves looked at me in slight wonder. We hadn't quite got to that part of the conversation yet and having it revealed in a juvenile argument meant we lacked the time to dish out our opinions and motivations or what not on the matter. I ignored this attempt at silent conversation, electing to save it for later. 

'There the problem lies, Charles. If you did send me that bally telegram then I wouldn't have had reason to volunteer myself so readily.'

Uncle Percy chimed in here with surprising aplomb, 'I don't know if you remember Captain Widdershins mentioning he was thinking of leaving the group a year ago, in order to spend time with his family out of danger - I think it was. I spoke to him recently. He's just back having lost his leg in that mysterious mission that you sent him on.'

My eyes widened. Charles was orchestrating a whole chess sets worth of people it seemed! I took the man to be manipulative before but now I could see that without a doubt he had a touch of the Machiavellian about him.

'I concede that I did ask him to go after those salmon. It wasn't for nefarious purposes, I assure you, we don't have many people who can handle aquatic based missions as well as him.'

'He no longer wants to retire,' Uncle Percy said in condemnation.

Charles sighed, 'I can't claim absolute innocence. Of course I have motivations to keep the Department going full-steam. As for the telegram I might have sent it, but I didn't think it would change anything too seriously. People are endangered all the time, you and Mr. Jeeves are not above peril.'

Jeeves' expression was as cold as ice, 'That is not the point, Mr. Snicket.'

'No? Well what is?'

'You betrayed our trust, made us go against one another, all without us having a choice in the matter,' Jeeves said. I had never seen him so utterly biting and haughty before.

'None of us get to choose, Reginald,' he replied.

Jeeves mouth opened in a dispelling of breath and exhaled all the emotions that seemed to be building up. It was hard to be angry at a fellow who was so utterly right. It's not like Uncle Percy, Jeeves, or Charles, even, had wanted to be indoctrinated into an organization. Though their recruitment might have been more conventional in that they were children, they had been wronged the same way. That is, they were manipulated into thinking that being apart of VFD was their only choice if they wanted to be noble people. My own position was much the same, I wanted to be a part of VFD because they felt I would be worthy as a child.

'I'm not forcing anyone to do anything per-say,' Charles said, 'you know how it is. When you are faced with an opportunity to contribute to something bigger than yourself, you take it.'

I for one finished my drink and stared down at the last drop floating about the cup. What could any of us say? We did want to contribute to the world in our own fashions, and I'd much prefer this sort of thing to marriage, but it felt difficult to admit to ourselves that perhaps our choices were outside of our control. We were merely falling into the roles we had always been supposed to play from when VFD first scouted us. 

We were contributing to a system that meant forever more particular people would be placed under dire circumstances. The kind of circumstances that caused Jeeves and I to lie to each other, or meant that children might have to grow up without parents and survive on their own.

Charles left soon after my thoughts might have been able to leave the confines of my head and reach the lips. He said he had to go and pop in the library and would rather let us think about all this VFD stuff when he wasn't present. 

Uncle Percy was second to depart. He stated that he was going to try to wrangle Charles when he next saw him into making his volunteer role a bit less heavy, claiming that such a discussion might be possible now he'd admitted to being a kind of puppet-master. 

That meant Jeeves and I remained in the flat, with Salten muddling about in the kitchen. 

'What do you think of all that then, Jeeves?'

'It reminds me of a line from the poet Herrick, sir, "expect to be no less Ill used, than babes left fatherless".'

'Bit gloomy that.'

'Indeed.'

‘Sounds about right, though. I suppose that’s it then. The villain, who had noble reasons, can continue to put people in danger and we remain in those deep waters we started in. All after finding out we have been ill-used and what have you.’

‘So it would seem,’ he paused before launching into a lecture. ‘There is a long tradition from Ancient Greek philosopher’s discussing how free will and deterministic views of the world are incompatible-‘

‘Perhaps you could tell me about that some other time, Jeeves. Thinking about this all is hard enough without you bringing Greek philosophers into it.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘You must purge all Greek philosophy from your mind.’

‘I have already done so.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is from Othello Act 1, Scene 3.


	14. Epilogue

To complete this tale’s narrative I rather felt an addendum was needed. You see, things as they stood post-confrontation were a bit wobbly, truth be told. Jeeves hadn’t yet been re-introduced properly into my life via his valeting, Salten hadn’t biffed off to the agency just yet, Uncle Percy hadn’t retired, justice was served far too cooly for my usual tastes, and I had yet to know how things would look in general from then onwards.

I needn’t have worried myself too much. Whilst the VFD soup was bubbling, and continues to bubble, Jeeves and I worked out quite the way of separating work and private life. We only took on missions that were feasible, to Charles Snicket’s chagrin, and had knowledge about what each of us were doing at any given time. In doing so our relationships went from strength to strength. In all honesty I couldn’t feel closer to the man than I do currently. There’s something frightfully topping about sharing a passion and moral code with your partner. Not that I would necessarily recommend the whole joining a secret organisation thing to revive a relationship, it might stretch the point a bit.

There was the whole indoctrination issue to consider as well. Admittedly, this caused Jeeves and I pause. It was hard to accept that we were apart of something that would continue to progress by claiming children and taking them from their parents. It hit especially hard for me knowing that the fire my own blood relations died in related to my own, albeit spurned, recruitment.

Mine and Jeeves’ conclusions on the thing were complicated. Reginald, having grown up in the volunteer role, was of the opinion that he was duty-bound to continue his work even if he knew the organisation would never perfectly solve the world’s ills, being made up of a lot of people with all different moral compasses and codes. I suppose it was similar to his old feudal spirit in that he might not always agree with what socks I might wear, but would say he didn’t mind even if there was a touch of disapproval about his complexion.

My own view was built on Jeeves’ wish to remain volunteering but also with a few extra bits. I felt a connection to my late parents through being a member, as I now knew it was an important (but secretive) part of their lives. There was also a sense of accomplishment to be had in not being a spineless wastrel, or any other insulting phrase boiling down to Bertram Wooster being a pointless blot on the horizon. Which satisfied the itch of uselessness I might have felt before this all began.

The added bonus to it all was that, though initially sceptical, my now working relationship with Uncle Percy mollified my Aunt A.’s raptures by a small extent. She still threw rice and confetti at me on occasion, but with a whole team of willing helpers suffice to say it did not stick awfully long.

After the ridiculous episode recounted above, mine and Jeeves' now forever intertwined lives reached an equilibrium. We were still likely to run into problems, and still are as a matter of fact, but things were more stable somehow. As I write this, for instance, Reginald sits close at hand and we have surpassed that sickly feeling of uncertainty that plagued us before my VFD involvement. For now, at least, the dust and ashes could settle on-top the now calm waves and be carried trouble-free to new shores. Until a storm might start up again, but so far, I have to say, it looks to be clear sailing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this! <3  
> It was a really good thing to make during lockdown to keep my mind awake.


End file.
